


Hidden Under Lights

by OriksPix



Category: Hit the Floor (TV)
Genre: Feelings Realization, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:51:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18628255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriksPix/pseuds/OriksPix
Summary: Jude and Derek return to the arena, struggling to mend their broken hearts. The animosity remains between them, but as they slowly work to bring the Devils back to the top, their hostility gives way to something entirely different. Set during Season 4.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go in my little rarepair tugboat, wheeee

Jude straightened his wrinkled tie as best he could and attempted to smooth the creases on his shirt with his hand. He had never looked so disheveled at work before, but another night of sleeping on his office couch meant there had been no time to get a change of clothes. Oscar would’ve had some choice words to say on how Jude was sullying their family name as messily as his dress shirt. He made a mental note to keep a spare suit in here for any future all-nighters (and he foresaw quite a few of them), made a few quick combing attempts with his fingers, and finally left the office.

As the elevator doors opened to the ground floor, he saw Lionel coming from the other end of the hall. Her pristine white dress and blow-dried locks made Jude self-conscious and he nervously patted his hair down again. Unfortunately, Lionel was less than impressed by his sad attempt.

“You slept on the couch in your office, didn’t you.”

Jude swallowed thickly. “No, I—How did you—”

She pulled him by the end of his tie and tugged it forward, inspecting it like it was homework. 

“Since when do you come to work in a wrinkly tie?”

He swatted her hands away and re-arranged his suit to a less despicable level of wrinkled. “It’s been a rough week. I’m sorry I’ve been too busy to iron but I’ll make time this weekend.”

“No you won’t. You’ll come here again this weekend because you refuse to take a break.”

Jude tightened his jaw. “Working keeps my mind occupied,” he said quietly, “I don’t have to think about anything else.”

With the recent changes made to the Devils team, there had been little time to think of anything but preparations for the upcoming season, and Jude had gratefully sunk his whole being into work, where he could ignore the wave of feelings threatening to overwhelm him. His office couch was too short to properly fit his frame, but he preferred the back aches to being at home in his bed (their bed), surrounded by memories that were still too recent to be painless (he could still see the scraped paint off the wall they had once leaned against together). It was too much for him.

Lionel’s sharp eyes softened, and she looked at him with such pity that it made him feel pathetic. 

“This isn’t healthy, Jude,” she said, “I get that you don’t want to wallow in your heartbreak, but you’re not exactly moving on either. You’ve got to process your feelings, you know?”

“Yeah well, I went out and got laid like you wanted me to, and look what happened.”

Lionel casually flipped her hair with a shrug. “You mean how you just happened to sleep with my new sideline reporter right before his first day at the arena? You’re not a mind-reader, Jude, you didn’t know. Or maybe you are and you’re keeping secrets from me, which you really shouldn’t. Speak of the devil!”

She waved at someone behind him, and Jude turned to see Noah striding past the rows of brightly lit player posters splashed across the walls, looking cool as a cucumber with his hands in his pockets.

“I see we’re having a meeting in the hallway,” he said with more cheer than Jude thought possible. Both he and Lionel were smiling much too brightly this early in the morning. Jude glanced at his watch—11:15 am. Shit.

Lionel’s lips twitched. “Not really a meeting. More of a little heart-to-heart. Which I’m sure you guys did very intimately the other night..”

“Okay, is no one else here feeling the awkwardness of the situation? We just—” Jude gestured wildly at the air between him and Noah. “And now we’re working here together. Doesn’t anyone else see the issue?”

Noah shrugged. “Technically it’s not a conflict of interest. Lionel’s my boss, not you. It’s only awkward if you make it awkward. I had a good time, and I’d say you did too. It’s not gonna stop me from doing my job. Which I’m also great at, by the way.” He leaned forward with a charming smile and Jude’s skin prickled in irritation, because they _did_ have really good sex and it had kept his mind off things for one night. But now everything was getting tangled they way they always did in this damn maze of an arena, and he seemed to be the only one to acknowledge it.

In a feeble attempt to be responsible even as Noah’s smile disarmed him, Jude mumbled something about possible ethical workplace ramifications, at which point Lionel rolled her eyes to the ceiling. 

“Oh my God Jude, you are turning this into a bigger thing than it needs to be. No one’s going to care unless you blab to the paparazzi yourself. I guarantee you that every player in the league has slept with someone working in this arena, and they manage to keep it under wraps. Sometimes. Okay, maybe half the time. The point is, if you want to keep it in your pants, you can just stick to your current ridiculous schedule and never have a coffee break again, let alone sex.”

“Sorry. Sorry, you’re right.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and tried to calm his thrumming heart. “I’m just on edge right now. Jelena’s asked me to meet with Derek today and I’m not sure how to face him.”

“Derek Roman?” Noah’s eyes lit up with interest. “I heard he was back in L.A. but I didn’t know he was going to be at the arena today. There are a lot of questions I’d like to ask him about what happened in Miami. An exclusive interview with the fallen emperor himself would give us the ratings boost we need before the start of the season.” He looked at Jude with his disarming smile. “Do you think you could get me an in?”

Jude shook his head. “Derek and I didn’t exactly part on the best terms. He won’t be happy to see me at the meeting. You’re sweet-talking the wrong guy.”

Noah wasn’t deterred. If anything, he perked up even more, like a bloodhound on the scent. “I sense a story behind this feud,” he said.

Jude went cold with dread and turned to Lionel with pleading eyes. To his eternal relief, she decided to be merciful and looped her arm around Noah’s with an elegant slide of her bangled hand.

“That story will have to wait. You need to do some profiles on the upcoming rookies first.” She smoothly turned them around and waved casually at Jude before he could mouth a silent thank you. Noah wasn’t going to let this lead go, but he patiently played along with the momentary distraction and walked away with her, leaving Jude to nitpick at the wrinkles in his suit one last time before heading into the stands.

Jelena was waiting for him by the front row overlooking the court. She barely moved when he approached, save for a pointed raise of her brows as she took in his appearance.

“You’re really starting to let yourself go,” she said.

Jude tugged at one of his sleeve cuffs. “Long night. Why did you want to meet here instead of your office?”

“Because we’re trying to reel the big fish back into the pond,” she replied, “Derek’s had some of his greatest triumphs on this court. It means a lot to him. This is a better environment for you two to talk in than my office.”

“I don’t think it’ll make much difference. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t deck me right here.”

Jelena pursed her lips, as if she was considering letting that happen. “Better he does it here and now than in front of everyone during a game. But if you’re really worried, you might want to get into a fighting stance now.”

She nodded sideways at the double doors leading out to the main hall, which had just burst open. Derek Roman walked in with the same proud strut he used in front of flashing cameras and screaming fans, even for a mere audience of two. Jude couldn’t make out his expression from this distance, but as he got closer, he found himself looking at his shoes instead. This was the last meeting he wanted to have while he was barely awake—and if Derek was going to be the next person to comment on his appearance, he was ready to rip off his tie and throw it into the bleachers.

“Jelena.” Derek’s gravelly voice suddenly sounded very close and Jude forced himself to look up. The earlier swagger was gone from his posture; he looked somber and rather worn out. They were in good, disheveled company together.

“Since you’re coming back to the team, we need to discuss your new contract,” she said, “Any questions or concerns? You did read what I sent you, didn’t you?

Derek kept his back to Jude as he spoke. “Yeah, I did. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

Jelena looked satisfied. “Good. Then Jude can go over all of the official paperwork with you.”

“I’d rather just do it all through you.”

Jude felt a sting of annoyance at that. “I’ve done this for all the players, Derek. This is just protocol—”

“I don’t give a damn about protocol,” Derek said, whirling around to face him, “I am not dealing with you.”

Jude swallowed down the bitterness rising in his throat. “Well you’re gonna have to deal because I am the executive VP of this team.”

“You mean like how your boyfriend dealt with you by getting the fuck out of town? Yeah, I saw the tabloids,” Derek added when Jude visibly stiffened, “Trust me, if he were still here, I’d be taking shots at him too.”

“That part of my life is none of your business,” he said, hating the way his voice wavered, “We can’t all be happily married like you, so don’t you dare deal that low blow.”

It was Derek’s turn to freeze at his words. Jude could’ve sworn the shade of his eyes went almost pitch black and it made him shiver.

Jelena slid between them with raised hands. “Behave, boys. I won’t be able to babysit all of your interactions so let’s try to play nice for now. We have a team to run, and I won’t let the Devils machine break down just because you two feel like getting into slapfights with each other.”

Derek’s tight shoulders loosened and he sagged, his anger seeping out until he looked ready to crumble. Jude’s assessment of his fatigue had been spot on.

“I’m not asking you to be bosom buddies. But Jude is right, Derek. You need to be civil. And you will be, if you want to be a Devil again.” Jelena’s tone was an impenetrable wall of authority. Even if he had the energy, Derek knew better than to argue with her.

“Fine.” He turned on his heel and went back to the court.

“Where are you going?” Jude called out to him, “Shouldn’t we be going to my office?”

“I need a drink first.”

He pushed the doors to the hall with both hands and disappeared. Jude raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if the overhead lights could give him strength.

“That went as well as expected,” Jelena said, “He didn’t hit you.”

“Small miracles,” Jude muttered, “Maybe you should be the one to handle the paperwork with him, just to keep things running smoothly.”

She looked at him with contempt. “You’re not backing down, are you, Kinkade? Don’t tell me you’re going to let a little thing like animosity stop you from doing your job. You used to have a ruthless streak.”

Jude’s stomach lurched. “Yeah, well... that was before.”

To his surprise, Jelena’s gaze softened—only briefly, but enough that he noticed it. She crossed her arms and looked down at the empty court.

“Relationships end, Jude. It hurts, but you’ll live. Earthquakes and hurricanes can kill you, breakups won’t. You and Derek are stuck in the same place right now. Use that common ground to build your rapport back. Do what it takes, because I’m not going to let your little feud bring this team down.”

Jude blinked. “I don’t understand. What do you mean we’re stuck in the same place?”

“Did you notice how he went all stiff when you mentioned his marriage?” Jelena turned away from the court and gave him a meaningful look. “Derek is back in L.A. But Ahsha isn’t.”

Before she could elaborate, her phone vibrated. Jude watched her scowl at whatever message had popped up, mulling over what she’d just told him. 

“Looks like I need to go yell at my lawyer for ten minutes. Get that contract from Derek by tomorrow.” She stormed away, leaving Jude alone with his thoughts.

He hadn’t heard anything in the news about Derek’s marriage dissolving. He hadn’t paid much attention either, drowning as he was in his own sorrows. Reports of Derek’s performance suffering in Miami had been inevitable while in the arena, but nothing about Ahsha had come up. Now that he was no longer an agent, Jude spent little time following rag gossip, especially after he’d seen his own picture in trashy tabloids at the supermarket once or twice. He idly wondered whether he should approach the Devil Girls for information, but then thought better of it. He didn’t need to know the details.

If Derek’s marriage was in trouble, it would explain the dark circles under his eyes and the frosty haze that surrounded him; they mirrored Jude’s own look these days. His earlier anger dissolved into a small ember of empathy. He knew what it was to carry a heart that felt as heavy as stone until it was difficult to breathe. It was almost a relief to meet someone else who felt as he did.

Jude rubbed a hand across his chest as he another pang struck him, pulling up the well of emotions he tried to keep buried during the day. Strangely, the reminder of his heartbreak strengthened his resolve.

He waited in his office nearly an hour for Derek to arrive. Half of it was spent dealing with other business, the other half was him playing his favourite Match 3 game on his phone. When it was clear he had no intention of coming, Jude shuffled his contract papers into an orderly stack and left the office with them.

His first thought was to check the Playground after Derek mentioned needing a drink. Sure enough he was at the bar, nursing a barely touched scotch. Jude guessed it was already his second or third. He squared his shoulders and carefully slid into the seat beside him, placing the contract on the counter. Derek didn’t so much as twitch at his presence, eyes firmly locked on the bottom of his glass.

“Once you’ve signed all of this, I’ll be out of your way,” Jude promised.

The awkward silence grew heavy with every second Derek kept quiet. Against his better judgement, Jude gingerly put a hand on his shoulder. He felt it stiffen, but otherwise wasn’t pushed away.

“Look, I’m not going to pry into your personal life. My only business is your professional one. And if I can at least help you get your career back on track, then—”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve talking about getting my career back on track when you can’t even show up to work without a wrinkled tie.”

Derek finally deigned to look at him with a critical eye. Jude covered his tie like he was protecting his virtue, feeling a blush creep up his neck.

“A wrinkled tie isn’t a career setback! I’ve just been too busy to do any ironing.”

Derek turned back to his glass. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

The sadness in his voice was devoid of previous hostility, and Jude had to wonder if the booze wasn’t mellowing his anger. Maybe he’d have to keep his whiskey tray filled up whenever they had future meetings in his office.

“Yeah, it does,” he agreed, “Like something’s clawing at your chest every day. But that’s not gonna stop me from doing my job, and it shouldn’t stop you either. You’re Derek Roman, for God’s sake. Every time you fall, you climb back up and soar higher like... like an eagle.”

It wasn’t the best inspirational speech Jude had ever given—hell, he was cringing inside at how cheesy it sounded—but he was currently running on two hours of sleep and too many cups of espresso to count and this was the best he could muster.

No surprise that Derek didn’t perk up at this; instead, he gave him another subdued glare that even Jude thought he deserved. Nevertheless, they had their intended effect and Derek pulled the contract closer.

“I’ll sign it and hand it back tomorrow. Now leave me alone.”

It was good enough for Jude, who slid off the stool and out of the Playground with no small amount of relief. Now he could focus on the hundreds of other things he needed to do for some of the new additions to the team. He stayed in his office until well past sunset, when Lionel swung by and insisted on giving him a ride home. 

For the first time in weeks, Jude had no desire to argue. His tiny victory in getting Derek to sign his new contract had taken out what little energy he had left, and he was grateful for the ride. Once Lionel was parked in his driveway, she kissed his cheek and promised to take him out for a fancy dinner soon.

Once inside, he immediately shed his shoes, coat and tie before falling face first onto his bed. The place felt weirdly empty now that only his belongings remained. Half packed cardboard boxes had been crammed into a corner of the room, with a few more still sitting in his living room. 

He hadn’t had the heart to sort through them, and now they merely collected dust around the house. Zero had left a lot of things, and all Jude had been able to do was shove all his items—photos of them, spare jerseys, half empty cologne bottles and hair gel containers—into boxes. He didn’t know what to do with them. There were too many memories crammed in, joyful and sad all at once, a bundle of things too tangled for Jude to pull apart.

It was sad to cling to things like cologne bottles, but even a whiff of the familiar scent was enough to make Jude’s eyes well up. He hadn’t known he could fall so deeply and completely, and it had been frightening. And if he was feeling this much, Zero had to have felt it as well. To have gotten it wrong had been the most painful blow.

The one thing he hadn’t been able to put away still sat on his nightstand: a small velvet box, kept open so the simple silver ring inside of it gleamed beneath the yellow glow of his lamp.

Zero had found it before he could even ask, hidden away in one of his coats he liked to borrow. And after weeks of talking it over, of tense hopeful waiting, he had taken one look at the sadness in Zero’s eyes and knew he had been wrong. Zero had decided to cut him loose then and there, before Jude could begin to resent him for not wanting this in the far future.

He’d argued that he didn’t need an official registered marriage, that they could continue as they were. Zero left anyway, fearful that he could never give him the life he wanted. So he sold the childhood house they had been planning to renovate and was traded to Boston, while Jude remained in L.A. with his shattered heart and a ring he wished he had the strength to throw out the window.

He closed his eyes and turned his face away from the box, his last moments with Zero replaying over and over in his mind without pause. He hadn’t known heartbreak could feel so all-encompassing, that it could ache inside his core with nothing to soothe it.

Derek wasn’t like Jude; the guy was probably drowning in his old vices, seeking solace in any offerings the world freely gave to famous ball players. He wouldn’t be moping into his comforter like a sad sack. Still, he had let down his guard just a bit, and—though Jude was certain it was entirely due to the scotch he’d been drinking—he’d caught a brief glimpse of the vulnerable man Derek was never allowed to show on the court. He had even deigned to take the new contract to sign, even if only to get Jude to leave.

This small victory, more than anything, had given him a little spark of hope he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was enough to push Jude off the bed and fetch his ironing board. He set himself up in front of the TV and laid his tie across it. If he was going to drag Derek out of their mutual broken hearts club, he’d have to look like the most professional damn exec the Devils had ever seen.


	2. Chapter 2

Jude later discovered that Derek gave his signed contract directly to Jelena, after she dropped it on his desk.

“Good job,” she said, “Next time, try not to use me as an intermediary.”

Jude took the papers and rifled them in order. “I did talk to him face to face. I just think it’ll take some time for us to be on proper speaking terms.”

“Then keep working on that. We’ve got our first game coming up and Derek can’t afford to fail.”

“That part’s the coach’s job, not mine,” he said.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure German will whip them all into shape before the end of the week,” Jelena replied. Jude’s fingers slipped through the pages.

“I’m still not sure why you hired the guy who’s barely out of a Devils-related murder scandal to be our head coach.”

Jelena took out her phone and scrolled through it with nonchalance. “Pete’s sudden death didn’t leave us much time to find a replacement. German’s got solid credentials. He knows the team. And hiring him back will help us spin a heartwarming media story about an innocent man cleared of any charges being welcomed back into the Devils fold. It’s a win-win.”

Jude rubbed his eyes, hoping to wipe away his sudden wave of fatigue. “This is a risky move, Jelena. The tabloids are hungry for even a whiff of blood in the water, and German—”

“Is our best shot at getting the team back to number one.” She looked up from her phone and caught his eye. “I’ve hired all the people I believe can help rebuild the Devils. Do you trust my decisions?”

“Of course I do,” Jude said truthfully.

Jelena’s shoulders relaxed. “You know this means you’re one of those people. Help me bring this team back to the top spot, Jude. Don’t let me down.”

Before she left his office, she gave him a final once-over. “You’re looking a lot more polished, by the way. Finally found time to iron that tie?”

He visibly straightened it for her to see, and she left with a satisfied almost-smile. His attention slid down to Derek’s signed contract. It was sad how these few sheets of paper gave him a feeling of triumph. It was the one small step forward he’d had in a long time. Now the question was whether Derek would be as decent to him today when he was completely sober. He decided to find out before training got underway, and left his office for the lockers.

When he walked in, players both old and new were rabble-rousing together under the silent eye of their new coach.

“Hey,” he greeted.

German turned around and gave him a small smile. “Hey.”

Jude stopped beside him and nodded at a group of players who were slapping each other with towels. “How’s the dynamic looking between our boys?”

German shrugged. “Hard to say until I get them on the court. People’s vibes can be so different depending on where they are together, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Jude watched as Derek slid into the locker room, smile blindingly white for the team welcoming him home. Gone was the somber slouch and tired look. “Yeah, I do.”

Derek was showered with back pats and hollers, and he soaked them all in. His chest puffed up and his shoulders straightened, falling back into the graceful and alluring posture that drew every eye to him. Jude had almost forgotten what he could look like when he was at his best. He remember the first time he’d seen him in person, and the giddy awe that had tingled through his limbs.

“Derek,” he called out.

The man caught his eye for a brief moment before promptly turning away, slinging his arms around two of his teammates. Jude shoved his hands in his pockets to recover from the deliberate snub. So that was how it was.

German let out a low whistle. “Damn. What’d you do to him?”

“Long story, and I don’t have the time to get into it,” he said, “As long as you’ve got a good relationship with him and he works well with the team, that’s all I need.”

It was foolish to have gotten his hopes up. Whatever minute progress he’d made, they were right back at square one, and he had no idea how to proceed from here.

Now that he was stinging from rejection, it made the warm locker room air feel even more stifling. German rounded up the players towards the court while Jude scurried back to the safety of the arena’s corporate floors. He couldn’t shake the image of Derek’s hard eyes turning away from him. Whatever glimpse of vulnerability he had shown, he wouldn’t want to reveal it again. He’d secretly hoped to have someone to relate to, even if only on a surface level.

Derek didn’t want to share in this. Jude would have to try and fix his broken heart with his clumsy hands while Derek hid his under the glaring lights of the stadium. Perhaps this was the price to pay for being more open to emotions; Jude felt every cut sink deeper past his skin.

His feet padded down the halls, leading him somewhere before he could second-guess himself. He pushed the doors to Noah’s office and found him lounging in his chair, playing over interview footage on three separate screens.

Noah looked up at the sound of Jude’s entrance and unlinked the fingers he’d been hiding under his chin. “What brings you to my lair?” he asked.

Jude bounced on the balls of his feet, the fists in his pockets flexing with sweat. He’d ended up here without really thinking. He should have gone back to his office.

“I don’t, um. I don’t know.” The tickle of nerves in the pit of his stomach grew stronger. “I think I took a wrong turn.”

Noah laughed. “You practically live in this arena, Jude. I don’t think you showed up here by accident.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said. He didn’t move. Noah stood up and approached him, sliding his hands out of his pockets and down his thighs in one practiced move. His smile was genuine and left Jude feeling warm all over. His body remembered the thrill of their night together, and he gave into the phantom pleasure so he could forget everything else.

His vision swam, blurring Noah’s eyes until he saw Derek’s again, burning through him where he was still fragile and torn up. He lunged forward, grabbed Noah’s face in his hands and kissed him hard.

Noah responded immediately, wrapping his arms around Jude’s waist and pulling him close. They grasped each other with maddening need, riding on the high of their previous encounter. Jude lost himself in the pleasure of skilled hands and lips, longing to forget the stress of the day. Aching to put aside Derek’s contempt, to erase the last imprints Zero left on him.

Noah shoved him against the wall and sank to his knees. Jude looked down to see him unbuckling his pants and threw his head back as he was plunged into moist heat. Noah kept his hips steady, taking him in all the way. He ran his tongue along the underside of Jude’s cock and hummed. Jude forced back his whimpers and raked his nails across the wall. He was like a dam ready to burst, needed this release of unthinking bliss for just a few merciful moments. And burst he did, in between Noah’s lips, shuddering against the wall until he was empty.

“Shit,” he whispered, suddenly feeling the tremble of his weak legs. He hadn’t meant to come so quickly.

Noah stood up and wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Looks like you really needed that.”

Jude could do nothing but nod in between heavy breaths. He reached gingerly for the couch near the door and collapsed onto it. Noah sat next to him, resting his head on his fist and admiring the mess he’d made of Jude with a proud smile.

“I’m guessing you’ve not had a stellar day,” he said.

Now that the high of his orgasm was ebbing, Derek’s furious gaze was back in his mind, and Jude’s stomach tensed. He hid his face in his hands as the heat of shame crept up his neck.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have made you—”

Noah laughed. “You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to, Jude. I wasn’t gonna turn down your fine ass after having had a taste already.”

Jude peeked at him between his fingers. “Still... this shouldn’t be how I deal with my problems.”

“You needed to let off some steam. And don’t get me wrong, if you want us to be therapy fuckbuddies, I’ll be more than happy to help. But judging by how your shoulders just went up to your ears again, I’m guessing my amazing blowjob only helped temporarily.” Noah smiled widely. “Maybe you need another round?”

Jude felt his spent cock twitch weakly at the offer, but his nerves got the better of him and he shook his head. “Listen, I don’t normally do this.”

“Do what? Let go? Yeah, I can tell. You’re so tightly wound up, Jude. And unfortunately for you, I love to unravel knots.”

Jude’s throat tightened with dread. He stood up and tucked himself back into his pants.

“Is this about your falling out with Derek?” Noah prodded, “I’ve seen how he glares at you. Do you know something about what happened to him in Miami?”

“No,” Jude replied. It was true enough; he didn’t know the details other than the hints Jelena had dropped. He certainly wasn’t going to get that information straight from the source.

Noah crossed his arms behind his head and made himself comfortable on the couch. “Alright, keep your secrets. I’ll find out sooner or later.”

Jude refused to say anything else. Any word on the matter—even in denial—would only pique Noah’s interest. He left the office on unsteady legs and with a heavy heart. He’d never been good at setting his troubles aside for very long. Zero had often told him to stop worrying so much about everything, and he had learned to let go for a time. But his carefree anchor had dropped away, and he was back to his old habits.

He stood in the middle of the hallway, debating wether to sink to his knees like he really wanted to, potentially alarming the passing janitor. Instead, Jude took a moment to close his eyes and breathe. He was tired of wallowing, so very tired of letting the broken pieces of his heart nick him at every nerve ending of his body until he was numb.

When he opened his eyes, the world sharpened before him with painful clarity. He was staring straight at the giant poster of Derek on the opposite wall. His confident smirk was like a beam of light, searing right through Jude. Whatever smiles Derek had put on for the camera and his teammates, he knew it wasn’t the same genuine swagger from the poster. He was good at putting on an act, but Jude had seen his real self in the Playground.

They both loved the Devils. They believed in the Devils. If Jude could get back into his good graces, they could elevate the team to the top spot and prove themselves to the world. They didn’t have to remain broken men forever; they could learn to be champions again, able to stand tall.

The problem now was to make Derek stop hating him. That was the issue Jude thought about during work hours while he busied himself with other things. It wasn’t until the day before the Devils’ first game of the season, when tension and nerves were buzzing across the arena like electricity, that he finally decided to seek information from an untapped source.

He went down to the court in the late afternoon once the sun’s descending glare got too distracting in his office. He caught the last few moments of the Devil Girls’ final dress rehearsal as they landed in unison on the ground with one leg in the air.

He grew nervous as he watched them stretch and chat amongst themselves. A few of the girls looked familiar, but he wasn’t sure he knew their names. He’d never been involved with the dance side of the Devils; Jelena still oversaw the team even while she ran a million other things. He did spy one blonde he knew better than the rest, who was busy ushering the girls to the locker rooms.

“Kyle,” he said, and she stopped to look at him with wide eyes.

“Hello, Mr. Executive VP.” She looked him up and down with suspicion. “You don’t usually come to rehearsals—Wait, is this about the vats of honey splashed all over the girls’ locker room? Because when you’re sweet-talking a bee farmer, things just get a little sticky, you know? Not that I would know anything about seducing bee farmers,” she added hastily.

“No, that’s not what I’m here for,” Jude said, “Wait, what honey in the locker room?”

“Nothing. No, nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kyle flipped her hair back and gave him a too-wide smile. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Deciding it was best not to pry, Jude smoothly accepted her subject change. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Derek. You’re friends with him, right?”

“I’d say so, yes.”

“And you were close with Ahsha too.”

“Still am,” she replied, “Although I haven’t heard from her much recently, if I’m being honest. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering, if... you know. If you had any insight on maybe what happened, or...?”

Kyle reeled back. “Are you asking me to air out my friends’ dirty marriage laundry to you? Wait, did something leak to the press? Do you think I did it?”

“No, nothing leaked!” Jude held up his hands to placate her. “I just want to know if Derek’s doing okay. His first game back with the Devils is tomorrow, and I just need to know that his head will be in it. Has he said anything?”

Kyle shook her head. “Not that I know of. He seems back to his usual swagger if you ask me. Listen, if you’re really that nervous about his performance, why don’t you ask him at the party?”

Jude blinked. “What party?”

“The party he’s holding tonight at his place.”

“And who exactly is going to this party?”

“Oh, you know. Us girls, and the boys. And probably some of his celebrity friends.” Kyle bit her lip. “I take it you didn’t get an invite? Well, I guess it might be a bit awkward to invite the bosses. I don’t think Jelena got one either.”

Jude counted to five in his head before he spoke. “Are you telling me that Derek is hosting one of his infamous wild parties and invited the entire team to get up to who knows what the night before the first game of the season?”

“Mh-hm!” Kyle’s eyes nervously darted left and right. “Listen, you didn’t hear it from me, okay? I’m sure it’ll just be a small thing between friends! Just some... cocktails and... finger foods. And some friendly games of Twister.”

They both looked at each other in silent acknowledgement that all of that was bullshit. Any tentative goodwill Jude had exploded into a fiery mess inside of him. It took tremendous effort not to march into the hall with the player posters and smash his fist against the glass covering Derek’s picture.

That he wasn’t invited was no surprise. It didn’t stop the hurt. The risk of the entire team potentially being too hungover to properly play was another major concern. Jude spent the rest of the day mulling over plans to stop it from happening. Mulling was all he did, though. No one in the world had yet come up with a foolproof method to stop pro athletes from excessive partying.

He stewed over this for a good couple of hours in his office, ignoring the rising number of unread messages in his inbox. The moment his office clock struck seven, he bolted to his car. He needed to change out of his suit before heading to Derek’s house.

An hour later, he was driving through an affluent neighbourhood. Lines of cars covered either side of the street, with people in swimsuits weaving between each other on the sidewalk, all of them heading in the same direction. After parking a few blocks away, he retraced his steps and reached the mansion. The heavy musical beat blaring from the open windows made his chest vibrate.

It was easy enough to slip inside and mingle with the crowd. Derek had left the gates open for people to come and go as they pleased. As Jude pushed his way to the kitchen, he saw a good number of players knocking back shots and his heart sank. He stopped in front of the bar, where Kyle was pulling one of her dancers off the counter and reprimanding her loud enough to be heard over the music. She turned around and made eye contact with Jude, who gave a little wave. She quickly readjusted her bikini top and marched over.

“Listen, if you’re going to talk to Derek, I’m not the one who blabbed about the party to you. Just so we’re clear.”

“Understood,” he replied, “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you told me. All of this,” he waved an arm at the pandemonium around them, “The night before a big game? If our players are too hungover to score us a win tomorrow, this won’t be good for anyone.”

“I’m starting to think so too. If any of these girls breaks a leg doing one other crazy stunt, I can kiss my raise goodbye.” Her eyes widened at something behind Jude. “Nicole, do not lick that! You don’t know where it’s been!”

She shouldered past him to stop whatever potential danger was happening, leaving Jude to hover awkwardly near the bar. A thorough scan of the kitchen told him that Derek was nowhere to be found. He made his way from room to room, searching among the drunken partygoers for any sign of him.

He walked around the backyard pool twice until he was certain none of the dark figures splashing around were Derek, and wandered back inside, making his way to a different wing of the mansion. His wandering brought him to an empty room with an unlit stone fireplace. Just as Jude was ready to give up and go steal a whole bottle of scotch for himself, Derek sauntered down the stairs with a glass in his hand and a cigar between his teeth. Upon seeing Jude, he froze.

“Don’t remember sending you an invite.”

Jude’s heart hammered a little faster. “You didn’t. I’m here to ask you what the hell you think you’re doing.”

He took the cigar out of his mouth and rolled his shoulders back. “Doing whatever I damn well want in my own house.”

“You’re throwing a party the night before the first game of the season, and you don’t see the issue here?”

“We’re all big boys, we can handle ourselves.” Derek made to walk past, but Jude grabbed his arm.

“Listen, I don’t care if you want to screw yourself over,” Jude hissed. Even as the words left his mouth, he felt the bitterness of the lie. He cared more than he wanted to admit. “But I don’t want you dragging the other players down with you.”

Derek jerked his arm away. “I know the team’s got my back. Unlike you.”

Jude flinched, but quickly recovered. “Listen, I understand why you’re still mad at me and I will do what I can to make things right.”

“Because you don’t have a boyfriend anymore to conspire with behind my back?”

It was a cruel shot through his heart, and Derek knew it would hit its mark. Jude’s anger pulled the words from him before he could stop himself. “And you don’t have a wife anymore, so I guess you’re falling back into your old ways.”

Derek’s eyes darkened, and Jude immediately regretted what he’d said. They were both broken men lashing out at each other with what little strength they had left. It was a sad and pathetic slapfight with no real winner. Jude’s hand twitched, as if it wanted to reach out and touch Derek in apology, but he clenched it into a fist at his side.

Derek tossed his cigar away and slipped out of the room. Jude almost wished he had started yelling at him instead. He knew how Derek hurt; he felt the same in his core, and it was eating away at them both.

The party noises rose even louder and he suddenly felt like sinking into a year-long sleep. He trudged up the stairs, hoping to find some peace and quiet while he scrolled through his phone. The second floor was thankfully devoid of guests, and he ducked into a room only to look up from his screen and see that it was already occupied.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out.

Noah quickly snapped the lid shut on whatever box he’d been peering into. He casually slid his hips over the table and gave one of his disarming smiles. “Just a bit of sleuthing. The public wants to know more about Derek Roman... the side they don’t see in the press.”

“Were you even invited?”

“Nope,” he replied cheerfully, “But I’ve got my ways.” He stuck his hand in a candy bowl and pulled a handful out to peer at the bottom. What he found there caused him to whistle. “That is the third or fourth illegal substance I’ve found in this house so far. Now I’ve just got to figure out where he hides the coke. You’d think that’d be the first one I’d find.”

Jude privately wondered if Derek still kept his stash hidden in an old shoebox in his garage. He kept his lips sealed around Noah, who was now eyeing him with renewed interest.

“Were _you_ invited?” he asked.

“No, I just came by to see how badly we might perform tomorrow.”

“I admire your commitment. It’s pretty sexy.”

The unexpected compliment got to Jude, and he swallowed. It occurred to him that they were alone in the room; it certainly occurred to Noah with the way he was prowling closer. As Jude’s eyes moved to his lips, he thought of getting back at Derek by despoiling the couch behind them. It was a petty thought, but his jab about Zero still stung, and it was so very tempting.

Before Jude could give action to this thoughts, the fireplace burst apart. Noah grabbed his arm and pulled him away as flames erupted across the room, devouring the tables and shelves. Jude couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight until Noah dragged him by the back of his shirt.

They stumbled downstairs where the screams of partygoers below rang from room to room. Jude nearly fell on his face as he hit a crowd of people fleeing for the outdoors. When he passed by the kitchen, he saw more fire spreading across the bar. The spilled puddles of booze fed it higher until it licked the ceiling. He turned away from the carnage and followed the others out the door.

Ten minutes later they were all standing outside the mansion gates beside firetrucks and police cars, watching the bonfire take over the entire house. It wouldn’t be long until news vans arrived on the scene; Noah was already filming the carnage on his phone to air on ISN first thing in the morning.

Jude’s eyes glazed over the string of angry texts Jelena was sending him. The night before their first game of the season and his worst fears had already come true. It was too late to think about the PR damage control they would have to do, but Jude could already picture the headlines touting Derek Roman’s spiral back into his destructive party boy ways. It was enough to start a headache right above his left eyebrow.

No one would have blamed him for throwing in the towel right then, and let Derek drown in his own error. But even mired in bone-deep exhaustion, Jude saw an opportunity. He tucked his phone away, ignoring its vibrations from Jelena’s nonstop messaging. Derek stood a few feet away next to German, staring at the fire.

Jude steeled himself for what he was about to do and approached them. Now that he was close, he saw that Derek looked strangely solemn. There was no sadness in his eyes as his home turned to ash. It was almost like the fire was a meditative trance.

“Do you know where you’re going to crash tonight?” he asked.

Derek looked to him, but his mind was still half elsewhere. “What?”

“Tonight. You need a place to stay and sleep before the game. And don’t tell me you’re going to a hotel because the paps will be here any minute now to scope out this disaster and probably spin it into something more melodramatic than a cracked gas leak and an untended cigar. They know all the best hotels where celebrities stay at, they will try to hound you.”

“Where do you expect me to go?” Derek asked stonily.

Jude braced himself. “I’ve got a guest bedroom in my house.”

The look Derek gave him could have frozen over the blazing fire. “I’d rather bunk with German.”

“Whoah, don’t get me involved in this.” German put his hands up in defense. “Besides, I haven’t gotten my first head coach paycheck yet. You wouldn’t fit on my tiny couch.”

“My house is gated and since I’m not a player, I’m not a paparazzi magnet,” Jude pressed, “Look, we’re lucky the news vans haven’t arrived yet but they’re definitely on their way right now. I’m going to do whatever I can to keep my star player away from the chaos until tomorrow’s game. And afterwards, we’ll figure out what to do about your home insurance and living situation and all that stuff. But for now, _please_ , Derek. Will you come with me?”

He waited and watched. The vein in Derek’s temple pulsed as he chewed the inside of his cheek, looking Jude up and down. The glow of the firelight made his dark eyes shine with something Jude couldn’t decipher. He readied himself for another cold rejection, puffed his chest out like it would help him deflect a blow.

Derek uncrossed his arms. “Where’s your car?”

“What?” Jude said.

“You drove here, right?”

He hadn’t expected this. “Yeah... yeah, it’s one street over.”

“Then let’s go.”

Jude fumbled for the car keys in his back pocket. He waited for Derek to finish speaking with the officers on the scene. The crowd was slowly thinning as the spectacle wore out its welcome. Jude fervently hoped the other players wouldn’t be too rattled by the experience. They were going to need a decisive victory to stop the gossip tongues from wagging and declaring this fire a bad omen for the Devils.

The ride back to his house was thick with silence. Derek watched the streetlights go by from the passenger window while Jude kept his eyes on the road. He was afraid to speak and break whatever spell had gotten Derek to come with him. It wasn’t until the residence gates swung shut behind them that his shoulders sagged in relief.

Once he was past the front door, he flicked the lights on and he immediately spotted the unpacked boxes tucked in a corner. A glance back at Derek showed that he hadn’t noticed, though his eyes did roam across the living room.

“I’ll check that the guest bedroom’s decent,” he said. Derek sat on the couch and leaned his head back. Jude took it as an acknowledgement and scurried off.

The room was immaculate. He rarely had guests over to use it, but he took relief in the few short seconds alone as he planned his next move. If he undid all the minute progress that had gotten him this close to Derek, he would have to go scream into a pillow.

Perhaps it was best not to push his luck and just cut their interaction short. Derek was only here for the night. They weren’t ever going to be friends and they didn’t have to be.

After composing himself, Jude stepped back into the living room. Derek was still on the couch, his arms folded and his eyes closed.

“The room’s ready,” he said, “The bathroom’s right across the hall. It’s probably best we both go to bed. Tomorrow’s your first game and you’re gonna be spending a lot of your spare time with your insurance company and probably looking for a new place.”

“I’m not tired,” Derek replied.

“Okay... maybe you’re just running on adrenaline from the fire.”

“I’m not—” his voice went rough, then he sighed. “I should feel something. I just lost my home. The place where Ahsha and I... But I just feel relief. Like it was part of something I needed to let go.”

Jude slid into the armchair next to the couch. He couldn’t understand Derek’s see-sawing attitude towards him. He wondered if he was just vulnerable from a few glasses of scotch again, or if Derek was desperate to open up about his feelings to someone who was going through the same thing, only to reel back from the sting of his past betrayal. It was hard to decide which sentiment to go with.

His curiosity got the better of him, and he asked: “Why did you agree to come here?”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not thinking straight. Had too many glasses, probably. Didn’t want to spend money on a hotel room now that I’m gonna have to replace a bunch of stuff. Thought maybe I could punch you once we weren’t in public anymore.”

“Do you really hate me that much?” Jude asked. He threw his earlier caution to the wind. Despite everything, he had a burning need to be back in Derek’s good graces and he didn’t understand why. Perhaps he’d fooled himself into believing he could heal by reaching out to someone with the same hurt.

Derek’s face hardened. “I lost trust in the only woman I’ve ever loved. The only other people who’ve betrayed me nearly as bad are you and Zero, and right now you’re the only one around. Why the hell do you think I’m so angry?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “About what I said to you earlier at the party. It wasn’t right.”

Derek didn’t reply. He took in the decor around the living room, his eyes darting left and right as if he was searching for something. “Looks like he was never even here.”

“Who?”

“Zero.”

Why did he want to talk about him? Jude didn’t even want to talk about him. He’d barely managed to pour out his feelings to Lionel.

“What did you see in him?” Derek asked bitterly.

Jude couldn’t help but get a little defensive. “I know that the image he portrayed was obnoxious. And I’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t all just a front. And yeah, he tried to screw you and Terrence over to get to the top. But he also... When I was with him, I felt freer than I’d ever been. He helped me break loose from all the bindings I’d put myself in growing up as a Kinkade. When we were together, it felt like nothing else mattered.”

His voice disappeared as another wave of grief clawed its way up his throat. Derek’s dark eyes were clear and sober as they bored into him. He could almost sense the uncertain shifting of opinion behind them. He wasn’t sure Derek was drunk at all.

“I asked him to marry me. It didn’t go as I’d hoped.”

Derek’s brows rose a fraction.

“I still have the ring,” he continued, “I keep telling myself to get rid of it, but I just can’t. Maybe if my house also burned down and it just got destroyed, it would make me feel better. Like I wasn’t keeping myself tied down. But I don’t know how to let go.”

The cracked and fragile wall he’d carefully built around his heart crumbled to dust and his truth was spilling out. He _wanted_ to tell Derek, the one man in the arena who could barely stand him. He didn’t understand why, but he felt it was important to tell him.

Derek sank deeper into the couch. “Better he walk out on you now than after the wedding. Divorce is a pain in the ass. Trust me, you don’t want to go through that.”

He hadn’t expected any genuine comfort, but still, Jude felt it. Derek was throwing him a meagre scrap of sympathy and commiseration, and he lunged at it like a starving man.

“Everything I’ve seen you go through for Ahsha, that was what I wanted to have with him,” he said, “For a moment, it felt like we could own the world.”

“I’m not doing this,” Derek interrupted hotly.

“Doing what?”

“This bullshit you’re doing right now. I can’t wallow in my feelings anymore, it’s killing me. If I do, I’ll never be at the top of my game, and the Devis are all I have left.”

Jude’s breath hitched. “I know. It’s all I have left too. I know what you’re capable of, Derek. I want to help you regain your greatness on the court. I can’t change what I’ve done to you in the past, but I swear I won’t make those mistakes again. We were a good team once. I think we can be again.”

Derek’s scoff was a light punch to the gut, but Jude stubbornly held on. “You used to trust me.”

“When I thought you were nothing like your dad, yeah. Turns out backstabbing and shady deals run in the family.”

“I’m not—” Jude’s voice rose in a flash of anger. He held himself back from saying more things he would regret, but Derek had hit a tender spot inside of him, much older than his heartbreak, a deep wound that had chipped away at his insides since childhood. He pushed the pain away.

“There was a time when I desperately wanted Oscar’s approval,” he admitted, “Because I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it without his backing. But now I know that’s not true. And I want to do things right this time. I’m asking you to let me. Starting with the game tomorrow.”

Derek’s crossed arms loosened, thought Jude wasn’t sure whether it was from a modicum of regained trust or simply exhaustion.

“I don’t need you to tell me how to play. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

“I know. I just want you to know I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

Derek abruptly stood from the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

He left for the guest bedroom and closed the door behind him. Jude rubbed the stubble starting to form on his chin, unsure of what had just happened. He didn’t think Derek understood anymore than he did.

He whipped out his phone to see Jelena’s last message: a link to a gossip site already reporting on Derek’s burnt house. He tucked it away along with his tangled feelings about their talk. There was nothing to be done about it now. Tomorrow would reveal whether their moment had been another step up the ladder, or more drowning in the mire of past hurt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out longer than I expected.

The next morning saw Jude shuffling to the bathroom only to find the door locked. He kept mindlessly turning the doorknob left and right, over and over with no success. The jiggling continued while he swayed on his feet, wondering why nothing was happening. As he reached for the knob again, the door opened on its own and out stepped Derek. He had a towel wrapped low around his waist, which caught the droplets of water running down his skin. Jude’s eyes lifted only high enough to reach his chest. He took in the planes of his pecs, sharpened by a thin sheen of water. His dream-addled brain was still buried somewhere under the covers and all he could do was ogle.

“You’re in my bathroom.” His voice was raspy. He swallowed and finally looked up at Derek’s face.

“Your guest bathroom only has a shower and I wanted a bath.”

Jude cleared his throat. “Fair enough.”

“You done staring?”

“I wasn’t staring.” He flicked his eyes to the ground and rubbed a hand over them. “I’m still asleep. I wasn’t looking at you in particular.”

He slid past and closed the bathroom door, taking a moment to lean against it. He’d half-expected Derek to leave in the middle of the night, but here he still was, half-naked in his living room. And Jude’s eyes had lingered too long in his sleepy daze. The sting of cold water from the sink was his penance.

He needed to tread carefully; the paparazzi would be swarming the arena today like sharks drawn to blood, and he didn’t yet know how last night’s fire had affected the other players. Jude spent his time under the hot water jets thinking up what to say to Derek once he was out of the bathroom. He needed to keep their strange truce going. It was one of the few things keeping him afloat in the storm.

When he stepped out in his bathrobe, Derek was still in the living room. He’d flung the towel he’d been using across the couch and was flipping through a magazine.

“You’re wearing the same clothes as last night,” Jude blurted out.

Derek tossed the magazine on the coffee table and gave him a steely glare. “I don’t exactly have a wardrobe anymore. What do you want me to do, wear one of your suits?”

“Right. God, I need coffee.” Jude shook his head to clear away any remaining sleep fog. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll get dressed, then we’ll grab breakfast to go, and then I’ll take you to a clothing store so you can buy a few things. Or I can buy you a few things. We won’t have time to replace your entire wardrobe, but you don’t need all of it back right now. After that, we’ll head for the arena.”

“I don’t need your money,” Derek said, “I kept my wallet in my back pocket last night. Still got all my cards.”

“Small mercies,” Jude muttered, “Give me ten.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were grabbing breakfast burritos at the closest drive-thru. Jude didn’t want to risk anyone seeing Derek’s face and practically pulled half his body out the car window to block him from view when he grabbed the paper bag from the server at the booth. He waited until they were on the main road again to sneak a bite into his mouth while he kept his other hand on the steering wheel. Beside him, Derek wolfed down his breakfast.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked.

“I ain’t doing small talk bullshit with you,” Derek replied through a mouthful of egg.

“Too bad because you’re stuck with me in my car.” If Derek decided to be a dick today, he had nowhere to run until they were at the arena, and Jude was ready to push back. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re going to let a little thing like your house burning down stop you from playing your best tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Derek snapped.

Jude slowed as the light turned red, and turned to look at him. His jaw muscles were clenched so tightly he could see them tremble.

“I don’t get you,” he said softly, “Sometimes it feels like you’re about to open up to me, and then all of a sudden you’re pushing me away again.”

“Why are you trying so damn hard? We don’t have to be friends. We don’t have to be anything. I lead the team and you do whatever it is you do. I don’t answer to you.”

“Because,” he replied, undeterred, “I see how much you’re hurting. I know, because I’m going through the same thing.”

Derek scoffed. “Gonna send me to therapy?”

“I’m not talking about therapy, I’m talking about... just talking. You managed to bury the hatchet with German, why can’t we do the same?”

“German didn’t betray me like you did.”

“Look, even traitors can be redeemed,” Jude spat out. His words were harsh enough that Derek leaned his head back. “I’m working damn hard to try and earn that, and you know what? If you didn’t want to work with me, you wouldn’t have taken up my offer to crash at my goddamn place last night.”

He ended his rant on a sharp exhale, emptying his lungs of all the angry air swirling inside of him. Derek’s cold stare melted into something unreadable. He didn’t blink for the longest time, unnaturally still even with the light jostling of the car. Jude felt an awkward heat creep up his neck.

A silent eternity stretched thickly between them. He gripped the steering wheel, keeping his eyes on the road and away from the passenger seat. He’d lost him. He’d messed up again.

“Maybe I wanted to see how far you’d go,” Derek finally spoke.

“What...? Are you saying this was a test? Are you testing me?”

Derek shifted in his seat, squeezing his empty breakfast wrapper like a stress ball. “You don’t know how many people do me favours because they want something from me. Money. Free game tickets. Hooking them up with other famous people.” He dropped the crumpled wrapper in his lap. “Even my mother only came back into my life so I could make her look good in front of her new boyfriend. The only people I know really got my back are my teammates, because they know what it’s like.”

He turned to Jude and raised his head in challenge. “Back when you used to get me blow, I know you just wanted to get on my good side. You got no reason to try this hard. You want to earn my trust back so bad even though you had no problem fucking me over when you could. I wanna know what your game plan is.”

“I don’t have a game plan, Derek. Honestly, I’m making this up as I go along. I just want to prove that you can trust me this time. My life just... look, it fell apart after Zero left.” He paused to collect himself; it still hurt like a knife wound whenever he uttered the name aloud. “Maybe this is my punishment for betraying you. I need to make it right somehow.”

Derek turned his head to the window and said nothing. Jude took it as a neutral sign and dared to raise his hopes just a little.

He took them to a luxury boutique known for being discreet about their exclusive clientele. A few of the salespeople side-eyed Derek (his open shirt, board shorts and flip flops were more than likely not up to their dress code) but otherwise maintained their professionalism. Jude sat in one of the plush armchairs while Derek went through their selection. Scrolling through the newsfeed on his phone, his heart sank with every new article about the fire zooming past his thumb. One particularly clickbaity title read _10 Reasons Why Derek Roman’s House Fire Means The Devils Are Toast_.

He shut off the screen and slid the phone into his pocket before he was tempted to click and read any of them. There was no need to raise his blood pressure so early in the day. With nothing else to occupy himself, Jude glared holes at the changing room door, his shoe tapping incessantly against the marble floor. He only stopped once he noticed the manager’s glare and opted to cross his legs and arms.

Derek emerged ten minutes later and handed over his haul to two salespeople. It was another few minutes of resumed foot-tapping as they folded, wrapped and bagged everything.

“I’ll take those,” Jude said when Derek reached for the last few bags. He was already carrying two in one hand and three in the other. He shrugged one shoulder and let him.

“That was a real quick shopping trip for this amount of bags,” Jude said as they walked out of the boutique.

“I’ve been there before. Some of these are replacements of things I had. The rest I got because I wanted to. If I see something I want, I go for it. No hesitation.”

“No hesitation,” Jude repeated, “Bring that attitude to the court and we’re golden.”

“Don’t tell me how to play.”

Jude smiled behind Derek’s back where he couldn’t see. There wasn’t any real bite to his words, which was a good sign.

The drive to the arena was silent, but Jude was happy to let Derek stew in his thoughts. There would be no quiet for either of them after this.

As they approached the stadium parking lot, the mess they’d hidden from crashed over them like a cresting wave. News vans were parked everywhere, and the crowd of reporters all turned when Jude’s car appeared. He glanced at Derek, who had his breakfast wrapper back in his clenched fist.

“Time to face the wolves,” he said.

They swarmed the car the moment it slid to a halt. Jude barely had any room to squeeze out of his open door before camera lights were flashing in his face. He shielded his eyes and circled around to meet Derek, who stared stonily ahead. Reporters shouted questions about the fire, the upcoming match, where his nerve levels were at. But Derek had been playing the media game too long to indulge them, and shoved his way past the microphones poking every which way. Jude stuck close behind, feeling like he was in the middle of a mosh pit.

They managed to squeeze past the worst of the crowd, whose voices filled the air like a thousand buzzing flies. Security guards were already posted by the doors as they usually were on game days. They ushered the two in and quickly blocked any reporters from following.

Jude inhaled deeply once he could feel air around him again. He caught Derek’s eye and attempted to smile. “Good luck tonight.”

Derek ignored him and stalked away to the locker rooms. There was nothing else he could do with him now, so Jude went his own way to the corporate floors. He bypassed his office for Jelena’s, where he knew she would be waiting for his in-person report.

The door was open, giving him a peek inside. She was scowling at her phone screen behind her desk. Jude knocked quietly against the doorframe to announce his presence.

“Been a crazy twelve hours, huh?” he said.

She looked up at him, unamused. “I heard you had Derek crash at your house last night.”

“It was the best place I could think of to let him lie low before the game.”

“Did you paint each other’s nails and talk about your crushes?” she said, “Or did you rip him a new one like I’m about to?”

“Can’t it wait until after the game? We want Derek to have his head on straight for tonight.”

“I called him in here so that I can straighten it for him.” She crossed her arms and looked down. “I won’t be at the game.”

Jude froze. “What do you mean? It’s the first game of the season, you have to be—”

“Tonight Miguel is getting on a plane to Sydney to be with his father.” She spat out the word like it was rotten. “I plan to be with him until he crosses the gate.”

“Right. I forgot.” Jude leaned against the desk, finding comfort in its solid weight. “I’ll hold the fort down here then.”

“That’s why you’re my VP.” She leaned back, assessing him in one clean sweep. “So? Did you manage to get through to Derek or does he still want to shove your face through a wall?”

Jude thought back on last night. The see-sawing and tug-of-war had left him feeling dizzy and wrung out. He wasn’t sure whether this was better than wallowing in bed, nursing his broken heart. Both options were exhausting.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “Sometimes it feels like he really wants to open up about things, but then he’ll remember how he’s still mad at me and then pushes me away again.”

“So what are you going to do? Keep at it until you regain his trust?”

“Why are you so concerned if Derek and I patch things up?”

“It’s not really about that, Jude,” she replied, “I just want to know whether you’re ready to give up. If you are, I’m going to have to change my plans. I need someone who won’t say it’s over until they’ve won.”

Jude frowned. “What plans?”

“Tell me if you’re giving up.”

He thought about what would happen if he did. He’d see nothing but Derek’s back retreating from him at every corner. His last memory of Zero had been his back as well, slumped and clad in an old leather jacket, disappearing down his front steps. It made him never want to feel anything again.

“I’m not giving up,” he practically growled.

Jelena looked pleased. “That’s what I wanted to hear, Kinkade. I think you’ll be fine.”

Whatever plans she had, she kept them to herself. Jude knew from bitter experience not to meddle in Jelena’s schemes. He spent the rest of the day in his office trying to make the time pass more quickly, but his nerves made the minutes stretch into agony.

He had a quick dinner by himself at a nearby restaurant and returned to the arena to see it filling with spectators. He managed to squeeze past the crowd and left for the locker rooms, hoping to catch a sense of the team’s morale before the game started.

German was right by the door giving a last-minute pep talk before waving at them to finish prepping. He looked surprised when Jude entered, but gave him a hearty greeting.

“How’s everyone feeling?” Jude asked.

German shrugged. “If you’re talking about the fire, they don’t seem too shaken up about it. Probably sobered them up real quick.”

“And Derek?”

“Seemed the same as usual. Did you talk him down last night?”

“Tried to.” Jude scanned the group, but didn’t see him anywhere. His eyes landed instead on the promising rookie who was fidgeting with the towel around his neck.

“Pax,” he called out. The young man jumped and turned to look at him with wide eyes.

“Hey, boss,” he said uncertainly, “Wait... are you one of my bosses?”

Jude leaned against the locker next to his. “Kind of. You ready for your first official game?”

“Yeah! Yeah, totally!” Pax said with false cheer. “I got this. I mean...” His adam’s apple bobbed. “Actually, I’m kind of freaking out.”

“Of course you are. But the good thing is you’re not alone on the court. I’ve seen you play. There’s a reason you were picked to be a Devil.” Jude glanced to his right. “Your locker used to belong to one of the best players on the team.”

“Who?” asked Pax.

“Zero.” He could still see the deep scratch marks on the inside of the locker door, left there after a particularly heated post-game makeout session. His eyes had known immediately where to land.

“Maybe it’ll bring you good luck,” he said with a forced smile. Pax shrugged, still fiddling with the towel around his neck.

“If I could play half as well as him or Derek for my first game, that’d already be enough for me,” he said.

“Speak of _the_ Devil, where is he?”

“Already waiting outside the doors.”

Jude left the locker room and made his way to the double doors leading to the court. He had to see Derek one last time before the game. All of their short chats, their staredowns... it all had to amount to something.

He saw him waiting with the other players who were ready, shaking his arms to limber up. He sidled right next to Derek and cleared his throat.

“I just came to say—”

“I don’t need your good luck,” Derek interrupted.

Jude pursed his lips. “No, you don’t need it. That’s why I came to say ‘welcome back’. This is where you belong. It’s where we both belong.”

Derek turned around, the crease of his brows deepening. In the darkly lit room, his eyes shone like two sharp pinpricks of light. It almost hurt to look into them.

He gave the tiniest, barely noticeable nod, and Jude’s heart lurched. He nodded back once, and left him to do whatever it was players did to mentally prep. He was grinning like a fool by the time he reached his front row seat beside Lionel. It was pathetic to feel so happy about tiny crumbs of progress, but Jude would take what he could get.

“What are you smiling about?” Lionel asked.

“Tell you later.” He made himself comfortable and got ready to watch the Devil Girls perform.

Derek had been right: he didn’t need luck. Every move he made proved he was still court royalty. The boos of certain segments of the crowd did nothing to deter his drive. Jude spent most of the game staring at him even when he wasn’t in control of the ball. He blazed across the court like he was on fire, his focus so sharply honed he practically cut through his opponents. It was a glorious sight to behold, watching the emperor at his best, and Jude lost breath several times during the tenser moments.

Derek stole the ball near the very end of the last quarter and smashed it through the hoop, shattering the baseboard in a shower of glass stars as the end game horn blared. Jude was on his feet with the rest of the crowd, pumping his fist in the air. The stress of the day melted to nothing as the deafening roar of Devils fans ignited his spirit. Even Lionel stood up to applaud despite her indifference to the whole spectacle of sports.

“Think you could spin this into a redemption story?” he asked her.

“Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of his burned house? It’s pretty poetic. I’m sure Noah can come up with something. Not that he hasn’t already been playing footage of the fire on a loop since this morning, but now we’ve got a new story to spin.”

On the court, players and dancers crowded around Derek, who nearly ripped his jersey right off his body as he crowed to the lights. Jude resisted the urge to join them all; he would let him have his comeback moment without encroachment.

“I’ll meet you at the Playground after I make sure Noah gives us some good interview footage,” Lionel told him. She left for the press pit, and Jude happily basked in the glory for a few more minutes. He could tell from Derek’s distant grin that they both felt lighter than they had in a long time.

Duty never slept however, and while reporters surrounded Derek for his first post-game interview, Jude had his own affairs to take care of. He left the court and hurried to the elevators for some peace and quiet. Jelena would have been watching the game from home, but Jude knew he had to get in touch with her anyway to discuss plans for the next game.

He’d put his phone on silent during the last quarter, and only now saw the text she’d sent him a few minutes ago.

_Call me right now._

The tone was unreadable, but Jude doubted she was angry. They had just won their first game of the season against all odds. But knowing Jelena, one victory wouldn’t be enough of a reason to celebrate; she was always looking at the bigger picture.

When she picked up after only two rings, she sounded calm. “Jude. I’m either about to give you the best present of your life, or your worst nightmare. Either way, I think you can handle it.”

An hour and two other phone calls later, Jude wandered into the Playground in a daze. The music and jubilant voices sounded like buzzing in his ears, muffled and distant. He looked around the room unfocused, until Lionel’s sharp blue eyes caught him and anchored him back.

“Where have you been?” she asked, “Where’s Jelena?”

Eve Vincent stood at Lionel’s right. Jude had barely spoken to her since her appearance, but the way she looked at him was chilling. To her left was Derek, whose stare left him trembling for a different, inexplicable reason.

Jude did not break eye contact with him as he said: “She’s gone.”

 

—

 

He felt the warm press of lips against his and gave in to the sensation. He tilted his head up and saw Zero’s crooked grin.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked.

Zero licked across the seam of his lips. “Conquering the world. You should be doing it beside me.”

“That’s not what I want,” Jude murmured, “All I wanted was to be with you.”

“But you’re already halfway there.” Zero ran a hand down his collarbone with a sad smile. “You rule the arena now. All that power under your fingers.”

“You could come back. We could rule together.”

“Nah. Too late for that. I’m far away now, Jude. Gotta spread my wings somewhere else.”

He kissed him again and Jude snaked his arms around Zero’s back in desperation. If he clawed at his skin, raked his nails and dug them deep, he could keep their bodies entwined forever. The ache of longing anchored him to the warmth he desperately craved.

When Jude opened his eyes again, the touch of his dream rolled away. He was alone in his large bed as he had been for months. It had been the first Zero dream in a while; he could’ve gone without them for the rest of his life.

Turning to face his alarm clock, Jude saw that it was still too early to rise. He could close his eyes again, catch a few precious extra hours of sleep before the chaos. But if he did, Zero’s hazy face would swim into view again, and then he would be incapable of leaving the bed. He fumbled for his phone instead, hoping to distract himself until he could muster the energy to get up.

The first thing to pop up on his news feed was another article naming him the new owner of the Devils. Jude had seen enough of those already. His muddled mind was in no mood to read about their speculation of his skills or his background. He tossed the phone away and flung an arm over his eyes.

Jelena’s quick sale had been a blur; Jude could barely remember what she’d said to him during their last phone conversation. She’d disappeared with Miguel and whatever money she’d gotten from their deal, and Devils Nation was now left to deal with the aftermath.

The news had spread from his lips to the players and the Devil Girls at the after-game party. But what Jude remembered most was Derek’s reaction. It had been cold fury simmering in dead silence until he’d pushed his glass against the bar and walked away. They hadn’t seen each other since, busy as he was with getting his new affairs in order.

In spite of everything, Jude felt oddly calm. He knew what the job entailed; he’d worked his way up the Devils ladder and had been dragged into the pitfalls and schemes of those who let themselves get twisted inside out by misplaced ambition. He could learn from past mistakes and steer the team better than his father ever did.

His greatest worry was how Derek would behave towards him now. He wrote the paychecks and had all the power. If Derek had any grievances, he’d have no choice but to come directly to him. Perhaps this was a good thing; they would be forced to interact more often and maybe that was the push they needed to move forward together.

He wallowed in bed until his alarm finally went off. By the time he arrived at the arena in his crisp new suit, the clock had barely struck nine. The high of their recent victory was still palpable in the air, and everywhere he turned, he saw chipper faces.

His first stop was the Playground, which was open for coffee service. By sheer coincidence, Derek was there as well. There was a small steaming cup in front of him, wafting a tempting scent. Jude hadn’t expected to meet again so soon, but braced himself as he approached the bar.

“Congrats again on your first win back with the Devils.”

Derek ignored him.

“I am your boss now, Derek. You’re gonna have to talk to me sometime.”

“Why the hell would Jelena sell to you?” he growled.

“Because I’m the most qualified person after her, and she knows how much I care about the team,” Jude said harshly. Without his morning coffee, he was grouchy enough to snap back. “She’s out there somewhere giving Miguel a better life than he could ever have with his deadbeat dad, but she didn’t just toss away the Devils. She gave them to me, because she knows I’ll do whatever it takes to help us win.”

Derek crossed his arms. “How do I know you won’t try to trade me?”

“I promise you I won’t.” Jude grabbed his bicep and felt the hard muscle tense underneath the fabric of his shirt.

“I’ve told you before, all I have left is the Devils. You’re part of that, you always have been. I screwed up big time and I know that. But there’s no reason I can’t have my comeback same as you.”

He slid his hand down and away from Derek’s arm, suddenly regretting the contact. He’d meant it as a gesture of friendship and reconciliation. He wanted Derek to understand everything from the feel of his palm, but he knew the guy didn’t work that way.

Derek rubbed his arm where Jude’s hand had been, looking no happier. “Can’t just forget everything that happened. Everything you did.”

“Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting. There are a lot of things I can’t forget. A lot of things my dad did. And I can’t forget...” His throat ached with emotion and killed the name before he could say it aloud. He’d dreamed of him and that had been too much already. “That doesn’t mean we can’t keep going. You said yourself that your house burning down made you feel free, like you could start over. We can do that too.”

Derek tapped the side of his cup. “Sometimes I wake up at night and think about where it all went wrong. Sometimes I can’t get Ahsha out of my head, and sometimes instead it’s you and I got no fucking clue why.”

“I know,” he said softly, “I’ve got plenty of those nights too—wait, did you say you think about me?”

“Because you keep trying so hard to make things cool between us, now you’re getting in my head. You got those annoying puppy eyes like you’re begging for a bone or something.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever been described like that before,” Jude said, straightening his tie. “So, uh... are the puppy eyes working?”

Derek glared at him, and he held up his hands placatingly. “Look, I’m the owner now, which means we need to trust each other if we’re going to keep the Devils machine running. And I’m gonna do whatever it takes to regain your trust. I got you to sign your new contract, right? And I got you to lie low at my house after yours burned down. I’d say I’m on the right track.”

Derek grunted and hunched over the counter. Jude took it as a very grudging sign of acknowledgement and thrilled over another minuscule victory. Maybe they were now at possible smalltalk level.

“How’s the house hunting going?” he asked, “I’m guessing you don’t want to stay at the Ritz-Carlton much longer.”

“Got a couple I’m looking at.”

“If you want to keep a lower profile, you can always crash at my place again—”

“Not gonna happen,” Derek interrupted. He slid off the barstool and walked away without a backward glance. Jude hadn’t expected a take on his offer, though he’d given it in earnest. Still, with every one-on-one interaction they had, his confidence grew. Feeling more energized now that he had downed his morning espresso, Jude left the Playground for his new office on the top floor.

Now that he was the boss of the entire kingdom, his schedule had grown even fuller than before. The first thing to get out of the way was the spate of interviews he had to give as the new owner of the Devils, including an exclusive for ISN. Noah had prodded him with smooth words and bedroom eyes, inquiring about Jelena’s whereabouts. That was the real juicy gossip everyone wanted to hear. Since he hadn’t the foggiest notion where she’d run off to, he had given a very standard interview with the usual platitudes about drive and ambition.

Another pile on his list of responsibilities was that he was now in charge of the Devil Girls lineups and promo. Jelena had been diligent in overseeing them, but she had personal history with them that Jude didn’t. He knew next to nothing about choreography or what constituted good dance music, but he was now their cheque signer, so he was going to have to learn.

Kyle caught him in his office one day, storming in with a folder in her hand.

“Hello, Mister Boss Man.”

“Can I help you?” he asked warily. She looked like she was out for blood.

“Listen, this whole change of ownership thing has really put a wrench in my money plans,” she said, waving the folder around, “Jelena promised to give me a salary bump and then half the girls posted their shenanigans on social media at Derek’s party under my watch. And now she’s disappeared before I could plead my case!”

“How big of a salary bump?”

Kyle paused a beat too long. “Forty percent.”

Jude raised his eyebrows.

“Fine, twenty-five percent. I just want to know if that’s still on the table. I mean, I did help you out by telling you about Derek’s party, didn’t I?” She parked herself on his desk, tapping one of her stilettos against its side.

“You did,” he conceded.

“If you need me to sweeten the honeypot, I can do my fair share of enticing. Normally this is the part where the top button on my shirt would ‘accidentally’ burst open. Oh, you can make it happen with no hands, it just takes practice,” she added brightly upon seeing Jude’s open mouth, “But I know that’s not going to work on you, so: it just so happens that my cousin Eric is in town for a rodeo in Pasadena. You should see the way he can wrap his legs around a stallion—”

“You do realize you’re trying to set your boss up right now,” Jude cut in.

Kyle tilted her head. “There ain’t no rule against that! It’s not like he’s one of your players.”

“Thanks, but you really don’t need to. I’d be happy to give you your salary bump.”

Her eyes went wide. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Jude confirmed.

She jumped off the desk and bounced on her heels, clapping her hands in glee.

“I just need you to do one thing for me.”

She leaned closer to him and put a hand over her heart. “Oh, anything! Give me all the strings attached and I will tie them into a pretty little bow for you.”

“Keep an eye on Derek,” he said, “Let me know how he’s doing, how he’s feeling. You’ll have a lot more opportunity to see him during practice.”

Kyle looked uncertain. “Why do you need me to check up on him?”

“I know what he’s going through right now. And since he’s our star player, I just want to make sure he can keep going. I’m just protecting my investment.” He shifted in his seat and his insides squirmed; it was like his body knew he wasn’t being entirely honest, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. From the look Kyle was giving him, she wasn’t fully convinced either. Nevertheless, she agreed to it.

“Anything else?” he asked, linking his hands together.

“Yes, actually. One of the girls had an idea for this year’s promo shoot.” She opened the folder she’d brought in and spread the pictures in front of Jude. “Instead of having the boys shooting baskets like we normally do, we could have an all-Devil Girls promo for the season.”

Jude flipped through the moodboards. “This looks kind of post-apocalyptic.”

“Well, we did start with a bit of a trainwreck this season.”

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.” He stopped on a picture of bright lights with female silhouettes standing in front of them. “I like it. We’ve got to show that we’re not afraid to get gritty. Who came up with this idea?”

Kyle’s smile was bright. “London did! I told Jelena it would pay off to have her on the team. It’s too bad she’s not here anymore so I can throw these in her face. Metaphorically, of course. I don’t have a death wish.”

“Still, it’s pretty bold to bring this straight to me rather than the marketing team.”

“You make all final decisions anyway! So what do you think?”

Jude nodded once. “It’s a perfect way to reshape our image. Our next game’s against Miami and I know they’ll be out for Derek’s blood. We have to sell a fearless image in the face of adversity. Who are you thinking of putting front and center?”

“Well... It’s London’s idea, so I thought... London?”

“Her idea’s great, but she’s too controversial right now,” he said, handing the folder back to her, “We don’t want to give the tabloids more ammo. Jamie’s the one who took the lead in the last dance, right? Have her head the promo.”

Kyle pursed her lips but didn’t protest. Satisfied, Jude leaned back against his chair. “Remember to keep an eye on Derek for me,” he reminded her.

She patted the folder under her arm. “As long as you’re adding those extra zeros at the end of my paycheck, I will let you know the moment he has a mood swing.”

 

—

 

Once the media frenzy had died down, Jude was able to acclimatize to his more hectic routine. He’d had enough dinners with league members to last him a lifetime; the dangerous balancing act of keeping everybody happy was putting him through the ringer. His respect for Jelena increased tenfold. How she’d managed this entire arena while raising a kid at the same time was beyond him.

When he wasn’t rubbing shoulders with the other suits, Jude kept a close eye on his players. He occasionally stopped by the court during practice to observe them. Pax (the one who now used Zero’s locker, Jude thought wistfully) was dragging his feet more often than not, lagging behind the others when he should have been a hurricane. Derek’s skill, on the other hand, remained unparalleled. Watching him was like a hypnotic trance, a choreography of sharp movements and high leaps that left Jude’s head spinning. He commanded the ball the way Zero had: like it was an extension of his body, gravitating towards him in the air.

Once or twice, Derek noticed him watching from the bleachers and gave him a long unblinking stare until Jude was forced to look away. He never said anything or approached him; it was enough to see him working the court. He’d sent a few texts over the past days, hoping to initiate a slow rapport. Derek had only ever replied once, with a brief ‘ _k_ ’ in response to a schedule change.

Kyle kept her end of the bargain and sent him texts about what he was up to, although they tended to be the same. He acted with his usual bravado on the court, and was friendly with the team and even friendlier with the dancer. However, according to her, he ended every single evening with a drink at the Playground, though usually alone and with little enthusiasm.

Jude decided to join him on one of those evenings. The bar was crowded with patrons; players and dancers alike were buzzing for their upcoming game against Miami. Derek was staring into his scotch glass at one of the smaller tables. When Jude slid into the chair across from him, he closed his eyes.

“I don’t remember saying this seat was free.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re waiting for anyone,” Jude said.

“I am.”

“Then I’ll keep it short. Tell me honestly how you think the boys are holding up.”

Derek sighed. “You got very little faith in your own team?”

“No. I just want you to be honest with me. I know you’re at the top of your game, but I’ve seen how Pax is tiring too fast. Is he doing OK?”

“I’ll worry about Pax,” he said, “You just shake hands or whatever it is you do.”

“It’s a lot more than shaking hands. Sometimes there’s shoulder clapping,” Jude weakly joked. Derek didn’t laugh, but he wasn’t as tense in their interactions as before. It gave Jude confidence.

“I’m glad we can be more civil,” he said, “I hate butting heads with you. If there’s anything I can do to make things better—”

“I heard you’re using London’s idea for the promo shoot and putting Jamie front and center,” Derek interrupted him.

Jude paused. “I did make that decision. It’d be bad for our image if we put the spotlight on her right now.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong!” Derek said heatedly.

“I know she didn’t, but you know what the paparazzi are like! They’ll swarm all over her like vultures and make things even harder for her, and for us by extension.”

Jude was saved from an acidic response when German sidled up to their table with a glowering London behind him.

“Still up for a game?” he asked Derek. He flipped a deck of cards from hand to hand with practiced skill. London sidestepped him and crossed her arms in front of Jude.

“I’m just here to plead my case,” she said, “I should get to be front and center for my own promo shoot idea.”

Before Jude could reply, Derek stood up to his full height. “I’ll back her up. You want to keep your decision final, you play against us.”

“You’re kidding.” Jude balked. “You seriously want to play against me over a marketing decision in a game of cards?”

“Should we even be gambling with the boss?” German asked between them.

Derek didn’t back down. His dark eyes were simmering with the same fury he unleashed on the court when he was staring down an opponent. “What’s wrong, Kinkade? You ready to back down?”

Jude shook his head. “You would never challenge Jelena like this.”

“Jelena ain’t here anymore. I’m asking you.”

Derek was slipping into his macho posturing skin, and damn if Jude wasn’t reacting to it. He could feel his own fire igniting, a slow simmer heating up his chest. He was reminded of Zero’s cocky smirk and challenging eyes; it lit him up in that in-between place of angry and lustful, and right now Jude wasn’t sure which he was feeling.

If there was one thing Derek had to know by now, it was that Jude was willing to clamber over every obstacle he threw in his path.

“I’m in,” he said.

Fifteen minutes later, they had taken over one of the larger tables further away from the bar. The rest of the Playground slowly emptied of patrons, leaving them without an audience. Jamie had been fetched from her spot at the bar for Jude to buy her way in, and she gleefully pulled up a chair next to him, keeping her eyes locked on London. Lionel also decided to join after catching wind of Jude’s involvement.

“Gambling over executive decisions is something I need to see,” she told him, pushing his elbow aside to make room for her martini glass. “If this is how we’ll be settling differences of opinion on team management from now on, it’ll give us all a good excuse to clean out the bar stock.”

Jude and Derek barely looked at anyone else as they went through round after round. When one was busy looking at his cards, the other would be scrutinizing him for a tell. Every once in a while, Derek threw a verbal potshot, which Jude deflected. He’d had a lot of practice by now.

“Four of a kind,” Derek said as he laid his hand on the table. He pulled his winnings to his side and practically preened while Jude rolled his eyes at Lionel.

“What’s the matter, afraid of losing more spare change?” she said, “Just give up an article of clothing or something.”

“I’m sorry, did you just tell the boss to strip?” German asked.

Lionel chuckled. “He’s not actually my boss. Besides, it’s not like he neglects any gym time.”

All eyes turned to Jude, silent and hesitant. Lionel was goading him like she always enjoyed doing. It would be unprofessional to strip down to his skivvies in front of his employees. Without thinking, he shrugged out of his blazer and lay it across the back of his chair.

Lionel tutted. “Wow, how risqué.”

“Well, it does set the tone for the rest of the game,” Jamie said, “If Jude is willing to turn this into strip poker, it’s only fair that the rest of us do the same.”

“Fine by me.” German rolled his shoulders back and flexed, shooting a look at a thoroughly unimpressed Lionel.

“I’ll keep my clothes on if that’s all the same to everyone,” she said, “If you want to see more skin, you can watch one of the three erotic thrillers I’ve starred in.”

They went through the next round, the air around them intensifying until Jude was certain the hairs on his arms were standing straight. He peered at his hand, taking extra care to keep his face neutral.

“You can spare yourself the humiliation of getting naked and just agree to give London her spot,” Derek said.

“No. Let’s keep playing for it,” London said fiercely, “I wanna prove who’s got better game.”

Jamie was the next to lose, and she nonchalantly peeled her shirt off. When German whistled, she threw it over his face. “Manners at the table,” she told him.

“That’s something you should work on, Derek,” Jude couldn’t help but jab, “It wouldn’t hurt you to say good morning when we pass by each other in the arena.”

“So you want me to pretend to be nice to you? Nah, son.” Derek flipped his cards into a stack and tapped it on the table. “Unlike you, I’m real with people. Better they know what I think about them straight up.”

“You’re a superstar athlete, you craft a persona just like every other player,” Jude replied, “The swaggering playboy is only part of who you are, but I’ve seen your other side. You can hide it under the blinding spotlights in public, but it’s still there. And that scares you, doesn’t it?”

The vein in Derek’s temple throbbed from the tightening of his jaw. Jude knew his words had hit their mark, even if all they’d left was a scratch. But he had those dark eyes looking deeply into his own again, pinning him in place from an unknown force.

Lionel leaned into his ear. “What the hell are you trying to do, raise his blood pressure so he slaughters the entire Miami team tomorrow?”

“I’m just pushing back every time he shoves,” he whispered, “You said I’ve been moping around too long, so now I’m doing something about it.”

She gave him a shrewd look, but said nothing else.

Derek was the next person to lose an item of clothing. He cast his eyes around the table, his mood turning sour from the loss. German whooped in his direction while Jamie raised an eyebrow. London cast a discreet sideways glance and Jude... Jude determinedly kept his eyes on his cards. He still remembered nearly bumping into his shirtless chest the day he’d stayed over.

Derek threw his shirt to the side, puffed out his chest in warning and sat back down. This time, it was London who whistled.

“Can’t complain about the equal opportunity stripping going on here,” she said.

Jude’s eyes flicked down, focusing on the twitch of Derek’s bicep as he held his cards up. The guy was going for intimidation, the usual bullshit ritual that pro athletes did to their rivals. It was all directed at him, pinpointed like a laser designed to sear him in half. None of the others were in Derek’s periphery. Jude felt an involuntary tremble crawl down his spine.

He knocked back the rest of his drink, nearly choking on ice cubes in his haste. The game continued with everyone save for Lionel growing steadily skimpier. Jude lost his shirt at one point and nearly curled into himself at the appreciative whoops sent his way.

“Who knew the boss kept himself as cut as the players?” Jamie said.

Derek scoffed, slapping his cards face-down. “Looking good doesn’t mean shit if you can’t play.”

Jude bristled. “Well, playing’s not part of my job. Althought I was on my high school’s varsity team.”

“I’m sure your daddy was real impressed by that.”

Jude nearly crumpled the cards in his fist. Only Lionel’s gentle hand on his leg stopped him.

“Is it just me or is the testosterone getting a little suffocating in here?” she said, “And no, German. Stop trying to puff up like Derek. It’s not working.”

Jude got his revenge when Derek lost the next round. Another item of clothing was about to join the pile.

“You sure you’re willing to take more off?” he taunted.

Derek stood up. For a moment, Jude thought he was about to storm away. Slowly, his hands went to his fly. He unzipped and pulled down his pants, glaring at Jude. Down they slid, exposing his legs to the table. When he straightened up again, his hands ran back up across his knees, up his thighs, skimming over the fabric of his boxer briefs. Jude watched the spectacle in fascination, his jaw clenched so tightly he could feel his teeth protest.

Derek spread his arms wide, jumping over Jude’s juvenile little dare with ease. His cockiness was rolling off in waves, thick in the air.

“This what you want?” he asked.

It was like lightning struck Jude clear through his body. His cock twitched against his thigh underneath the table. He crossed his legs, heart pounding so loudly he was afraid Lionel would hear it.

He had seen Derek nearly naked plenty of times, often during photo shoots. Hell, he was still wearing more than he usually did for the yearly Devils charity calendar. But it was different this time; it was a deliberate strip meant for him. A dare not to look away. Jude wasn’t sure he could even if he wanted to.

Derek sat back down and pulled his cards close, ignoring the whistles coming from the others. When everyone was back to focusing on their hands, he looked at Jude once more.

This whole game was nothing more than a ridiculous dick measuring contest, a playground slapfight they were both too old to be getting into. But there was something else simmering beneath the potshots, something that he was too afraid to name, even as the heat between his legs grew with every searing, angry glare Derek sent his way.

He thought he’d slowly gotten through to him in the past few weeks. The initial hostility had thawed just a fraction, but it had been enough to put Jude in a better mood than he’d been in months, coupled with their first victory of the season. But Derek’s anger was an unpredictable storm, and Jude never knew when the clouds would start gathering, when he would need to hold tight lest he be swept away.

Whatever he saw in Derek’s eyes, it wasn’t the cold disdain he’d given him before. It was the complete opposite: molten, burning with something too strong to name. Jude was lost as to how to respond.

“What are you doing?” he whispered without thinking.

Everyone stared at him. Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Seeing how far you wanna push this,” he replied.

Jude looked at his cards, then his empty glass of scotch, and finally down at Lionel’s perfectly manicured hand. Anywhere but at the man who was wringing him inside out.

The last of his chips were in the pile. He’d completely forgotten about winning. It was a relief to finally drop his cards on the table, as if they’d suddenly grown heavier.

“I’m out,” he said. His throat had gone dry, the words coming out scratchy. He pushed away from the table and bent over to retrieve his clothes.

One by one, the others dropped out of the game until it was down to Jamie and London. They had their own feud going on, but unlike his and Derek’s, Jude was certain they would end in a full-out brawl if left to their own devices.

He went to button up in the corner while the final round went on. He had covered his crotch area with his discarded clothes and hoped to get himself under control before rejoining the table. He really didn’t want to think about why Derek was suddenly giving him unwanted boners. It was the adrenaline of their aggressive taunts, he tried to tell himself. He thought about the least sexy things he could conjure up to calm down: the state of the Devils locker room after a game. The number crunching he was going to have to do in his office tomorrow. His father in a speedo—yep, that did it.

His inexplicable fire thoroughly put out, Jude pulled himself together and headed back to the others, just in time to see London reveal a straight flush on the table. Jamie’s face went red.

“That’s how you do it,” London said, crossing her arms.

Jude sighed. “Congratulations. A bet’s a bet. You’ll be headlining the promo. Jamie, don’t worry,” he said when she turned to him, “There will be other spotlight opportunities. The Devil Girls are gonna be front and center in a lot of events this year.”

He would have to deal with the marketing team after tomorrow’s game. For now, all Jude craved was the soft warmth of his bed. Lionel sidled up to him before he could make his escape.

“You do know you’ve probably started a war between those two, right?” she nodded at London and Jamie who were still squaring down.

“It was gonna be a mess no matter who I picked in the end. This might give us bad press but London’s a great dancer. She’ll know how to work her own idea.”

“Uh-huh.” She clucked her tongue. “Well if a fight starts on the court tomorrow, I hope you’ll be wearing a cheap suit because you’re the one who’s gonna have to get in the middle of it.”

She left him, tossing a disdainful look at German over her shoulder. Jude didn’t even want to know what their thing was all about. He headed for the parking lot while the others got dressed. His car was one of the last left on the lot and he made a beeline for it.

“Hey!”

Jude paused, closing his eyes to push away the fatigue for just a while longer. He turned around to see Derek approaching. The thump against his chest accelerated. He had half a mind to ignore him and dive straight into his car, to escape the warmth threatening to rise inside of him again. But Derek’s dark eyes kept him pinned in place.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

Jude blinked. “What?”

Derek planted himself right in front of him, effectively trapping Jude against the side of his car. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, bulging out in what Jude could only guess were from curled fists.

“You’re really gonna change your mind about giving London the promo because you lost?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No. Yes. I mean... Shit.” Derek ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I wanted that for her, but I just... I don’t get you.”

He was fidgeting. Jude watched in fascination, all thoughts of fleeing gone.

“I don’t get you,” Derek repeated, “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“You thought I wouldn’t keep my word,” Jude supplied for him, “But that’s what we played for, and London won fair and square. And you know what, you were right. She deserves another chance, regardless of what the tabloids will say. The same way you got a second chance and proved yourself during the game. So I think I deserve a second chance too. I’m showing you that I’m keeping my word from now on.”

Derek chewed on his bottom lip, looking like he wanted to say more. Jude waited, feeling the hard metal of his car digging into his back. The prickle of nerves made his fingers tremble. Still, Derek said nothing.

“I meant what I said before, about wanting us to be civil,” Jude finally spoke, “Even though you were seriously trying to psych me out during the game.”

“I was.” Derek had an easier time talking about that than whatever honest feelings he had. “You didn’t look too scared, though. You were staring right back.”

It was Jude’s turn to fidget. Derek was fully dressed now, but there was no hiding from his stare. He didn’t understand the true agony Jude had gone through. His body had reacted out of sync, responding to heated looks like the ones Zero used to give him.

“I don’t back down, and neither do you,” he said, pushing the memory away, “Admit it, you were a little impressed.”

Derek took a step back and looked at the pavement with a frown. “Impressed ain’t the word.”

Jude wasn’t sure they were getting anywhere with this conversation. He needed the rest of the night alone to clear his mind, untangle whatever knots he’d built inside himself. Tomorrow he would forget about Derek’s dark eyes. His body wouldn’t feel a thing.

“Get some rest. Miami’s not gonna go easy on you,” he said.

He got into his car and drove away, resisting the urge to glance at Derek in the rearview mirror. The distance eased the tension in his stomach, but his body still felt the thrum of inexplicable arousal, running down his legs until his feet tingled. If he didn’t understand what was going on in Derek’s mind, he was afraid that he understood himself even less.


	4. Chapter 4

It felt like the world was crumbling around Devils Arena. Jude spent most days hiding in his office, away from the prying claws of the media, knocking back lozenges. His voice was hoarse, throat scratched raw from the endless stream of interviews he’d been giving. Headaches were dealt with tylenol and at least two glasses of scotch. 

The Miami game had ended in a full-court brawl. Derek had lunged at a former teammate, set off by words too quiet for anyone else to hear. German and a few of the Devil girls had gotten caught in the ensuing chaos, and Jude would have leaped over the bleachers into the fray had Lionel not held him back.

The consequences were still rippling across the stadium, and he felt them acutely in the ache pounding beneath his skin every day. News outlets were all over the scandal, taunting him from every available screen and magazine stand. Jude was beginning to see the appeal of a hermit lifestyle, far away from the machinations of human society.

Eve was the one who told him of the league’s decision to suspend Derek for three games, her eyes glittering with something that filled him with cold dread. With their team captain out for the foreseeable future, there was little choice but to double down on training for the other players.

Truth be told, he was relieved that Derek was out of the arena; there would be no risk of bumping into each other day to day. He’d never understood the aggressive, testosterone-fuelled need to brawl that so many male athletes fell into, but even he was angry enough at Derek that the temptation to punch him was there. After the effort he’d put in to try and rebuild the bridge between them, the goddamn Roman Emperor had to go and do his best to burn it. 

If only it were just anger he was worried about. When he let his mental guard down, Jude’s mind would drift back to the poker game, to the moment when something shifted inside him. Derek’s gaze still pierced as sharply through his memory as it had that night. The way he’d slid off his clothes in slow defiance, never breaking eye contact. It was a silent, aggressive dare, dangerous in its allure. It brought up urges Jude absolutely didn’t want to acknowledge or name, urges he hadn’t felt in a long time. Nothing good would come from paying attention to them. It was for the best that Derek stayed away until he could get things under control.

But even with all of the Derek-less games to focus on, the separation couldn’t last. Kyle was still on reporting duty for him, and her latest update was delivered in person. She swanned into his office one afternoon and paused to sniff the air, her eyes landing on his third scotch glass of the day held in his fist.

“Are you opening a dive bar in here? This place smells like it’s soaking.”

“I, um. May have spilled a bit on the carpet.” Jude nervously fiddled with his tie, feeling like a child caught making a mess. “I’ll get the clean-up crew to come by later.”

Kyle shrugged. “Well, after what happened, I can’t say I blame you for turning to your liquor cabinet. Lord knows I finished a whole bottle of gin after I got my shoulder bruise checked. Those Miami players hit hard.”

“I’m so sorry that happened,” Jude said, still guilty for the collateral damage of the evening, “I’m glad you weren’t seriously injured.”

“Oh stop! The big boss man worried about little old me? I should try to squeeze another raise out of you for this, but I’m feeling generous today, so.” She hopped onto his desk and crossed her legs, never shy of making herself comfortable. “I dropped by to visit Derek this morning. Brought him some blueberry scones, courtesy of my gramma’s recipe. It’s the only thing I know how to make without setting my kitchen on fire.”

Jude’s heart leaped. “Where is he?”

“Still at the Ritz. He says he’s narrowing down his choices for his new place, but honestly I think this whole suspension has got him feeling real low. Pretty sure he’s spending a lot of time just watching TV in his suite. You know he started telling me which couples were breaking up and who came back from the dead on Days Of Our Lives? For like ten minutes!” Kyle shook her head, tutting. “Coming from him, that is just sad.”

Jude tightened his hold on his glass until it let out a grind of protest. He nearly lurched out of his chair, seized with the sudden overwhelming desire to go see Derek. Anger and uncomfortable feelings be damned, he needed to make sure his top player wasn’t going to atrophy too badly before his return.

“So you’re saying he won’t be in fighting shape once his suspension is over?” he asked.

“I know he’s letting off a lot of steam at the hotel gym, but I couldn’t tell you where his head is at.”

Jude did a quick scroll through his phone calendar while Kyle talked. He had a meeting in an hour and a half with Lionel to discuss image management in the wake of the scandal. There were a million other duties he could get to, but he swept them all out of his mind. 

“Where are you going?” Kyle asked as he pulled on his suit jacket.

“I’m gonna make sure my star player isn’t plummeting. I’m probably the last person he wants to see right now, but I’ve still got to do my job.”

Kyle looked impressed. “Now that is commitment. Jelena was right about you. You’re way too stubborn to let this team crumble.”

Jude paused at the door. “Jelena talked about me?”

“Only good things, I promise!” she responded brightly, which Jude knew was a lie. Jelena never praised anyone. But she had given him the team and her trust, which wasn’t easily earned. That was the best compliment she could’ve bestowed.

“You can have the rest.” He waved at the half-full scotch bottle still sitting on the desk. Kyle clapped her hands in glee and reached for it, always happy to indulge in expensive things she didn’t have to pay for. Jude waited until she took her haul out of the office before locking the door behind him.

He walked through the outdoor parking lot, heading straight for his car with its newly tinted windows. The paps were still swarming the place like sharks to bait, and he’d done it for his peace of mind. The drive to the hotel was uneventful, which was a relief. He dropped his car off with the valet and shuffled into the opulent lobby. With elites of all industries milling about in the lounge, no one payed him any attention; he was just another expensive suit among dozens. 

He silently rehearsed what he wanted to say as he stepped onto the elevator, running nervous fingers down his tie. But every opening he thought up sounded inadequate or weak. If he started out too soft, he would get blocked immediately. If he came on too aggressive, he’d get his head butted against.

Jude let out a frustrated huff and tried to collect his thoughts. He needed to find the perfect opening to slip through the door before it was slammed in his face. His last confrontation with Derek right after the disastrous game had involved a lot of shouting and high emotions. He wasn’t entirely sure Derek wouldn’t try to take a swing at him once he saw who was knocking. Jude rolled his head, working out the kinks and aches in his neck that were becoming too common, just in case he needed to duck.

By the time he was standing before the door to the executive suite, his mind had gone completely blank. The night of the poker game crept up again, clawing the back of his brain like a pest, just when he least wanted it to.

“For God’s sake, it’s just Derek,” he hissed to himself in the empty hallway, “You’ve faced him down so many times already, just... just. _Shit_.”

He knocked on the door before he got cold feet and waited. And waited. And waited.

Time stretched thin like an impossibly long string, vibrating from the tension of waiting, until Jude decided no one was inside. The knot in his stomach eased with unspoken relief and he made to turn just as the door opened.

“The hell?”

Derek wasn’t giving him the hypnotic stare he dreaded. He was frowning, mouth pinched and eyes squinting under the low ceiling light, cradled by dark circles from sleepless nights. Jude still grabbed onto the doorframe when his heartbeat sped up, unprompted and uncontrollable.

“I came to check up on you,” he said.

Derek stared at him for a long moment, then hung his head with a scoff. “You sure you’re not here to trade me?”

“I’m not trading you, Derek. Yeah, you screwed up but we’ll manage it. You’re the captain of the Devils. We can’t do this without you.”

Derek narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Jude’s nervousness returned, crawling up his spine like a bug.

“Can I come in?”

A few more moments of tense deliberation that felt like hours—why was time moving at a snail’s pace, God—until Derek finally stepped back and opened the door wider. Jude walked inside and took in the spacious suite. The lounge area was decked out in light peach furniture and curtains, contrasted with saturated blue and red paintings on the walls. A couple of empty beer bottles lay on the coffee table beside a plate of Kyle’s scones. Jude’s eyes automatically skimmed across the table’s surface for tell-tale signs. Derek watched him, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Checking for any leftover powder?”

Jude tensed. “That’s not what I—”

“I’m not doing any of that shit right now if that’s what you’re worried about.” He fell back against the couch and closed his eyes. “What do you want?”

“First off, I want to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine. Is that it?”

Jude exhaled sharply through his nose, silently counting to ten before continuing. “Look, I need to understand what happened at the Miami game. That wasn’t just regular smack talk, was it? You wouldn’t have lost your cool over that.”

He noticed the instant Derek’s shoulders went up to his ears. This was the moment he was either going to get kicked out of the room or possibly punched in the face. He could make a tactical retreat, wait until his suspension was over and hope for the best for the remaining season. But at that moment, Jude was feeling reckless.

“What did he say to you?”

Derek turned his head. His eyes were cast down, refusing to look anywhere but the couch seat. “Said things about Ahsha,” he muttered so low that Jude didn’t hear at first. “Things he shouldn’t know about.”

“What things?”

“Not telling you.”

“Derek—”

“I can’t!” he snapped so loudly that Jude stepped back. He sat up straight, long trembling fingers grasping at the empty air in front of him. “The things he said to me, they cut deep, alright? Cut me real deep down where I’m still bleeding. I can’t tell you what he said because I’m not laying my fucking heart out to you. I just... I _cannot_.”

His head fell into his palms, shoulders shaking from the force of his breaths. Jude watched in stunned silence as he curled in on himself. This wasn’t the Derek Roman the public was ever allowed to see. The man who could charm his way through a ladies’ dance team and snatch victory seconds before the game timer counted down, that wasn’t who sat on the couch. And it made Jude burn furnace-hot, seeing him stripped bare, more intimately than if he were naked. 

He cautiously approached, trying not to make a sound. Derek didn’t flinch when Jude’s weight sank beside him. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” he said, keeping his voice low and quiet. “You don’t have to tell me. I get it. He hit you where it still hurts—no. More than hurts. Where it’s still open and raw deep inside of you.”

Derek raised his head so that his dark eyes were visible. He gave a nod so tiny that anyone could have missed it, but Jude saw.

“I’m not really mad at you anymore. I was when it first happened. I was furious. I probably still should be, what with all the extra work you’ve given me with that stunt.” He ran a tired hand through his hair, undoing his carefully gelled look reserved for board meetings. “But I can’t say I would’ve handled it any better. I know how it feels.”

Derek turned to the side, chin resting against his curled fists. He faced Jude but kept his eyes on the ground. “Starting to think you’re the only one who does. I’ve had friends go through bad breakups before. Divorces. But no one else I know is going through the worst part right now except you.”

Jude smiled. “Sure is a weird way to bond, huh?” 

They fell into a silence that teetered on the fine edge between awkward and natural. Jude plucked at a stray thread on the couch arm as he waited for Derek to get through his brooding. But the quiet stretched on, peppered with the constant ticking of the clock above the flat screen TV in front of them. He could only stand it for so long.

“So, this suite is pretty... spacious,” he finally said. Save for the mess on the coffee table it looked barely lived in, like he was in a luxury IKEA installation. There was always something cold and unwelcoming about hotel rooms, even ones designed like high-end apartments. Derek’s old house had been excess and expense, but it had also been covered in personal items and worn clothes flung on chairs like a real lived-in home.

“I’m tired of staying here,” said Derek, “I see how people stare at me when I’m at the gym or the bar. Anytime you mess up, you gotta feel everyone’s judgement on your back.”

“So you haven’t found a place yet?”

“Yeah, I have. I told you before, when I see something I want, I get it. I don’t need a lot of time to make up my mind. Three point five mil, five bedrooms, four bathrooms. Outdoor pool, hot tub, three-car garage.”

Jude whistled. “That’s a lot of amenities.”

“A man’s got needs,” Derek replied, “Still gotta finalize the deal, swap out some of the furniture. Until that’s done, I don’t wanna move in.”

Jude hesitated to speak his next suggestion, but the urge was tickling him. He slid his hands in his pockets where they grew moist with sweat.

“You could, um. You could crash at my place again. I know you can more than afford this suite, but if you don’t want to spend the cash on any more nights, the offer’s open. Until your new place is ready.”

He didn’t know why he’d suggested it even as the words left his lips. Why he wanted to have Derek near him when every encounter they had sparked with angry electricity.

Derek finally lifted his eyes from the carpeting to look at him. “Why?”

Jude scrambled for an adequate reason. _I’d like to keep an eye on you until your suspension’s over. You can hide more easily from the paps and all the people judging you. As owner of the Devils, I have to take responsibility and we can tell the press you’re taking the time to reflect on your actions_.

“Because I want to,” he said, “I mean, if. If you’d like that too.”

It was a truth he could barely admit to himself, but there it was, blurted out without any filter—the three glasses of scotch were clearly to blame. He was reminded of the night he’d kissed Zero for the first time in the back of a limo, lunging on pure instinct and want without thinking. His immediate reaction had been glowing hot embarrassment for the next three days. Clearly he hadn’t learned a damn thing since then, because the same feeling of mortification was crawling up his insides.

“Okay,” Derek said.

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I—huh?”

“Most of my stuff is still packed. Didn’t wanna get too comfortable here anyway.”

Derek got up from the couch and started to pluck the empty bottles from the coffee table. Jude blinked several times, thoughtlessly watching him go through the motions of quick cleaning. His brain pushed him to move, but his body was stuck in place, rooted in shock.

“You gonna start helping, Kinkade? I’m trying to keep the cleaning staff on my good side, I don’t want to leave a mess.”

Jude snapped out of it and quickly pulled the bottle-filled plastic bags from Derek’s hands to move them to the kitchen. He brought back a damp cloth to wipe down the table while Derek went to get his belongings. It didn’t feel real, that he was doing this: packing up Kyle’s remaining scones in a ziploc bag while Derek folded clothes in the bedroom.

They were out of the suite in fifteen minutes, temporarily splitting up so that Jude could retrieve his car and Derek paid up at the front desk. By the time they were driving away from the hotel, the sun was halfway through setting, bright orange sky cutting through the L.A. haze thick enough to illuminate them in its glow. Jude had to pull down the sun visor in front of him.

“I’ll drop you off and you can just make yourself at home in the guest bedroom. Grab anything you want from the fridge.”

Derek hummed, head tilted towards the passenger seat window. He was caught in the full blast of sunset rays and drank it all in.

“I didn’t expect you to agree to come to my place again,” Jude continued, “I mean... we’re not exactly best friends, you know?”

“You still asked,” Derek pointed out.

His heart sped up. “Yeah, I did. But why’d you say yes?”

No answer for a beat or two. Finally, Derek looked at his hands, rubbing across each other in his lap. “Didn’t expect you to come see me. Figured you were done with me after the shit I pulled.”

“You haven’t made my job any easier,” Jude conceded with a humourless laugh, “But no, Derek. I’m not giving up on you. I’m not trading you. I’m not saying I want a repeat of that fight, because I absolutely don’t so you’d better keep your temper in check,” he added the last bit with ferocity, “But I get the pain. I won’t ask you again what he told you, but I get it. It’s hard to just get over it like everyone wants you to when you’re not sure how.”

He heard Derek mutter an agreement and felt lighter. It was a relief to relate to someone who shared the same wounds. Like if he could figure out how to help mend this heart, he’d learn how to fix his own.

“I guess I still want to see how far you’d go to reach me,” Derek said, “Figured I’d finally done the one thing that would get you to leave me alone. But here you are.”

“Here I am,” Jude agreed, “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out. I’ve got a meeting with Lionel tonight to talk about how we can regain the public’s favour. They’ll come back around to you, Derek. You’re way too popular to let this sink you.”

Derek didn’t reply, though the lines on his forehead smoothed out as he relaxed into his seat. It wasn’t exactly a thank you, but Jude took it as one anyway. 

Once he passed his property’s gates, his stomach rumbled with hunger. He still had to return to the arena for a few more hours, so Derek would have the house to himself for the evening. He led him inside the foyer and waved in the general direction of the living room. “Don’t trash the place or anything,” he said.

Derek kicked his duffel bag past the door. “If you don’t trust me, why’d you ask me to come here?”

“I trust you!” he insisted, “I do, I just... I’ll just go now. I’ll try to be quiet when I get home if you’re already asleep.”

He left Derek to occupy the evening however he wanted and drove back to the arena. His last meeting of the day was a work dinner with Lionel at the Playground. There weren’t many occupied tables tonight, so he easily found her lounging at their usual reserved two-person spot behind a fancy glass divider.

“I see you’ve gone ahead and ordered for both of us,” he said, slid into his seat and checking his watch. Five minutes to seven, just early enough that his detour at the Ritz hadn’t thrown him off schedule.

Lionel leaned back as two plates of butter sage ravioli were brought to their table. She smiled at Jude from between the waiter’s arms.

“I know this is your favourite. Figured I’d save some time so you got to eat right away. It’s a good thing the food here is up to par because no paps would ever be allowed in. Although by my estimation they’ll stop hounding you within the next day and a half.”

“You got this down to a science?” Jude asked. He pulled a napkin into his lap, glad that she’d correctly anticipated how hungry he would be on arrival.

“Years of being ground through the Hollywood media machine. Trust me on this. They’ll still try to get some snaps of Derek, though. He’s the real man of the hour.”

“He’s keeping a low profile,” Jude assured her, “I checked up on him earlier.” She didn’t need to know where exactly he was lying low.

“Derek’s as much of a spotlight veteran as I am. But we still need to do our jobs and rehabilitate his image. That little Miami spat sure gave us ratings, but not for the right reasons.” Lionel stabbed two pieces of ravioli and dropped them into her mouth in one go. “Lucky for you, I’ve got the best person to help us cobble together some nice redeeming footage of Derek.”

“And who would that be?”

“You called?” someone said on Jude’s right. He looked up to see Noah giving him an all-knowing smile. He pulled up a third chair and sat between them, immediately lounging back with one arm flung behind himself.

“Feels like I haven’t seen you in a while, Jude,” he said. Jude bunched up the napkin in his lap, following the quick trip of Noah’s tongue between the seam of his lips.

Lionel rolled her eyes. “I am the first person who’ll admit that Jude needs to get his mattress squeaked more often, but can we please wait until after we’re done with business?”

“I am a consummate professional,” Noah replied brightly, all flirtations vanished as he pulled out his phone. Jude waited, hunched over his plate. Noah’s presence was like a warm fire, reminding his body of phantom touches he missed, but not close enough to burn. It made him squirm.

“First things first, we run a thirty second segment on Derek before the airing of our next game. List his accomplishments, his victories and his struggles with his failed marriage.”

Jude twitched. “Should we really be bringing that up? He’s kept it pretty private.”

“A basketball legend going through a divorce is bound to get sympathy points,” Noah said. He picked a ravioli off Jude’s plate with his fingers and slid it into his mouth, letting them linger between his lips long enough for Jude’s adam’s apple to bob uncomfortably past his tie.

“We’re not going to make up the whys or hows of it, we’re not the National Enquirer,” Lionel added, “But reminding people that even their idols go through the same painful bumps as everyone else will help them relate. Derek and Ahsha had a whirlwind romance and a very public engagement. They had their own Twitter hashtag and everything. People are bound to feel sentimental about the breakup.”

Now that they’d reassured him there wouldn’t be any gossip-stirring, Jude breathed a little easier. He’d promised not to pry and he wanted to make sure no one else would either.

“I’ll have to review the footage before we air it, but that sounds like a good first start,” he said, “Anything else?”

Noah thumbed over his phone screen. “Second move: charity.”

“The Devil Girls are doing their annual charity dance soon,” Lionel explained, “It was supposed to be an underground vogue battle, but Kyle’s managed to get some media buzz around it, so we’ll be filming it live for ISN. It would help boost ratings if the players came to show their support and spend a little cash.”

“And what better way to reinstate Derek’s image than have him show up and help the girls out for a good cause?” Noah said.

Jude couldn’t disagree with a media-covered charity event. He told them he would run it by Derek later—if he wasn’t asleep by the time he got home.

“Last item on the list: an interview with Jude Kinkade.”

“I’ll run that by him too—wait.” Jude looked up from his plate to see Noah looking entirely too pleased.

“No,” he immediately retracted, “Why? How is this related to restoring Derek’s image?”

“Think about it, Jude,” Lionel said, “This is the first scandal happening under your ownership. Of course people are going to be talking about you. Tongues are already wagging about your ability to manage the Devils.”

“You’re the youngest owner in the league,” Noah added, “Many might say that your inexperience led to this mess.”

Jude had been ignoring news outlets and social media as much as he could these days. Every time he saw his name come up on a screen, he immediately turned away. Hearing the rumours spoken aloud made his stomach twist.

“I can’t be expected to have control of Derek on the court,” he said in exasperation, “What do people want me to do, keep him on a leash?”

“Hmm. Kinky.” Noah waggled his eyebrows and Jude refused to take the bait, pointedly glaring at his dinner.

Lionel tapped her finger on the table to grab his attention. “The point is we need to show the public that you’re just as determined as Derek. Show them how resilient you are, the way I know you can be. It’ll be the perfect thing to air during our next game’s first timeout.”

Jude slid another piece of ravioli between his teeth, considering. He hadn’t thought about the rumours he’d have to dispel about himself, too wrapped up in Derek’s orbit as he always was. The guy was in his house right now, waiting, trusting him enough to set aside their animosity for the good of the team. He needed to do his part to help them both.

“Okay, I’m in. But I reserve the right not to answer any questions I don’t want to.”

Lionel gave him a winning smile. “I’m sure Noah won’t pry... too much. Just give him a little smack on the ass if he’s getting too nosy.”

“Or bribe me with M&Ms,” Noah said, “I can’t resist those.”

After dinner was over, Lionel left with a quick kiss to Jude’s cheek. Noah stayed back while Jude fiddled with his credit card, rubbing mouth in contemplation.

“What?” Jude finally asked when the staring got too much.

“You’re looking pretty frazzled these days. More so than usual, I mean.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed the media frenzy we’re stuck in right now, but I’d say I’ve got good reason to be frazzled.”

Noah leaned forward, his hand inching steadily across the table towards Jude. “I get that you’re trying to put out all the fires right now but it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a break. Let someone take care of you for a little bit.”

He brushed the tips of his fingers over Jude’s knuckles, feather-light touches that grew bolder and warmer as they slid down the skin of his hand. He tilted his head to the side, showing off the curve of his smooth neck, and Jude’s heart tripled in speed. Noah’s dark eyes were a lure, drawing him in with promises of touch and taste, of pulling him apart like on the night of their first meeting. They hadn’t been alone together in weeks; Jude had been denying himself, had been so bogged down in the scandal that he hadn’t even thought about the existence of sex.

The warmth of Noah’s hand climbed up his arm and bloomed across his chest. His dick responded with an interested twitch in his pants and he clapped his thighs together under the table, rubbing them to gain some relief. It would be so nice to let go and forget for a few hours, to let Noah do whatever he wanted with his undeniably talented tongue.

But afterwards, there would be questions. Noah would ask, insist he open up and lay even one piece of his broken heart bare, and the thought was enough to send him into a panic. He had been in the spotlight once, and it had nearly blinded him. He couldn’t revisit it again. If he went home, there would be someone there also hiding from the lights. Someone who hadn’t asked about his pain, but who he’d told bits and pieces to anyway. Derek had come to be a prickly balm, strange as it was.

“I think I’m gonna go home,” he croaked, like he’d forgotten how to use his voice. “Get some extra sleep.”

Noah’s fingers stopped stroking, but he kept his hand over Jude’s, tightening around it. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked with genuine concern. It made Jude ache.

“Yeah. I am. This might sound weird, but even though we’re stuck in this fiasco right now, I feel like I’ve got what it takes to pull us out of it. I can’t really explain why. Just a gut feeling.”

Noah’s eyes softened. “You know I wouldn’t air anything about you that you didn’t want, right Jude? I know you weren’t happy that I kept replaying footage of Derek’s fight, but let’s face it: whatever Lionel says, ratings are ratings. That’s just business. But it’s different with you. You know that.”

“I know.” He turned his hand over and linked their fingers together, finding comfort in the intimacy. His whole being still wanted to go home. Once he was there, it would depend on whether Derek was still awake and willing to talk.

He said his goodbyes and left for home. The sun was long gone now, replaced by the artificial dots of the city’s night skyline. 

Before the gate doors even opened, he could see the lights were still on in the living room. Ignoring the nervous flip of his stomach, Jude parked his car in the garage and quietly slipped into the house.

Just as he slid trough the living room entrance, Derek came in from the other side, shirtless save for a towel around his neck. He shone with sweat beneath the overhead light and greeted Jude with a curt nod.

“Hi,” Jude replied, mind racing unbidden to the night of the poker game (stop it, he chided his brain). “You, uh... You took advantage of the gym equipment?”

“Yeah. Wiped it down after, don’t worry.”

Jude wasn’t even thinking about the state of his barbells or his exercise bike. Derek moved past him, close enough that the heat of his tired body brushed his face like a breeze. 

He could’ve been letting out all of his pent up energy with Noah right now. Instead he’d chosen to come back here, to hover near Derek like a moth getting dangerously close to a flame. Lionel would’ve rightfully called him an idiot if she knew.

Derek swanned around the kitchen, shorts hanging low so the sharp v-shapes of his hipbones jutted out. Jude forced his eyes up, feeling like a sleaze for getting caught up in his baser instincts. He’d seen him in similar states of undress hundreds of times and never thought anything of it. Never even turned an eye towards him in that way, until something inside him decided that yes, it did want to swivel in Derek’s direction. 

“You feeling any better?” he asked. 

Derek pulled out a beer from the fridge and cracked it open. “Yeah. Gotta keep in shape for when I get back on the court.”

“Right. Of course. Listen, I have something to talk to you about but I think we could both use a shower first.”

Derek tilted his head up, hummed an agreement in between sips, leaving Jude to scuttle off to his bathroom.

He turned the water on cold to jumpstart his body. This obsession with getting on Derek’s good side was starting to affect him in very inconvenient ways. As he let the high-powered jets barrage his back, Jude tried to bury his yearning to the back of his brain. He’d let his emotions get the better of him once, and the pain of it still lingered like a stinging lesson. 

When he emerged freshly towelled and dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, Derek was sitting on the couch with the TV on a sports news segment. He had also showered and changed; Jude could smell the overabundance of body spray. 

Derek’s face was plastered on screen as the anchor described his current suspension as a time to “reflect and meditate,” quoted from the Devils’ last press release. Derek snorted. 

The scene changed to a reporter on the streets of L.A. interviewing Devils fans on their opinions. He held his microphone up to a blond frat-looking dude whose eyes were hidden by large shades.

“Roman’s done, man. He’s done,” he said, waving his arms, “He had the worst plays of his career when he was with Miami. No wonder they’re talking _**–BLEEP–**_ to him on the court, like they don’t got a good reason to.”

“You don’t have to watch this,” Jude said, carefully gauging Derek’s expression. He was ready to grab the remote and change the channel.

Derek shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the guy on screen. “Nah. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard people blasting me on TV. Comes with the job.”

“Well, the good news is that ISN is working on your image rehabilitation. They’ll be running footage of your career highlights and putting emphasis on all the victories you’ve gotten for the team.”

“Is that your big news?” Derek asked, “They do that every time one of the players is caught in a scandal.”

“Only part of it. The other thing is we want you to show up for the Devil Girls’ charity vogue battle. It’ll help you look dedicated to the team and if you donate some cash, even better. And get some of the other players to come too. It’s going to be filmed live and we need to show that we’re a united front.”

“You want me in front of the camera.”

“You won’t be the main event,” Jude said, “The focus’ll be on the girls. But a few shots of you in the audience showing your support will definitely help. Kyle is really hoping to break their fundraising record this year, and having players show up might encourage donors to give a little more.”

Derek folded his arms and leaned back with a tiny shrug. “Fine. The girls are family. I’ll do it for them.”

Satisfied, Jude allowed himself to relax and sink into the couch. Derek took control of the remote and changed the channel to a rerun of Cheers, happy to escape from the outside world for the night. They sat side by side, silently watching together. 

It was the most normal home activity in the world, yet felt so unusual to partake in. Jude glanced to his left; Derek’s arms were crossed tight over his chest, but his legs were splayed open and loose on the seat, and he was smiling at the gags on screen. It made his heart throb to share such a quiet moment with someone else, pathetic as it sounded. It had been so long since he’d been domestic.

He stared a tic too long until Derek finally noticed. He turned to him and uttered a low “what?” which had Jude practically spraining his neck in the other direction.

“Nothing,” he replied, “Nothing. It’s just... I can’t remember the last time I did this with someone. Just watching TV at home.”

Derek’s face grew dark. “Been a long time,” he agreed.

Jude wondered how he’d been when alone with Ahsha. How differently he behaved when they weren’t in the spotlight, with the woman who’d captured his elusive heart. Was he a cuddler, Jude wondered. Did he loop his arm around her when they sat together in front of the TV? He remembered warm arms around him while watching old spy thrillers and Bond films, pulling him tightly against a broad chest. His shoulders suddenly felt cold.

The mood shifted from quiet enjoyment to the lingering dark cloud they both lived under most days. He’d been so tightly wound in front of Noah, afraid to let anything slip. The guy had seen him naked, but he’d never seen him truly bare. Yet here in the sanctity of his home, with the man he’d butted heads with more than anyone else in the arena, he wanted to open up.

“I miss doing this,” he confessed, “When we were home together, Gideon and I would always argue over who got to pick the movie that night. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d usually give up and let me choose, so—”

“Who’s Gideon?” Derek sounded incredulous.

Jude’s mouth snapped shut. He’d never spoken the name aloud to anyone else before, only ever used it when they’d been alone and intimate in the most domestic ways—cuddling before bedtime. Doing the dishes. Helping to adjust each other’s ties. He’d been so caught up in the familiar feeling of sitting next to someone that it had slipped out.

Derek’s face opened up in dawning realization. “Hold up. That’s his real name?”

This was followed by an undignified snort that had Jude bristling.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“A lot.” Derek pressed a fist to his lips, though it wasn’t enough to hide his smile. “No wonder he went by Zero.”

“It’s a fine name,” Jude defended.

“If you’re working in real estate. That’s not a baller name, man. Nobody’s gonna respect you on the court if your name is Gideon. Jesus.”

“Okay, you got your moment to gloat. The point is—”

Derek let out a gleeful noise that almost sounded like a giggle. Jude was about to chew him out, but something stopped him. Derek’s face was alight, the first look of real joy he’d had in a long time. This wasn’t the confident smirk that came to him so naturally when he was charming admirers or giving interviews. It was simple amusement, shared only with him in the quiet of the living room like they weren’t in high profile jobs with literal millions looming over their shoulders. Jude liked it, even if it was at Zero’s expense. 

“The point is,” he continued more softly, “I miss having someone to do stuff like this with.”

“You know I’m not gonna cuddle with you, right?”

“Don’t worry, your manly cred isn’t in any danger,” Jude replied, “I just meant it’s been a long time since I’ve had company like this. Lionel, God love her, she’s not really someone I can watch movies with, you know? She’ll start telling me which actor is the worst at memorizing lines or who’s having an affair with the director and it kind of ruins the magic.”

“What about Noah?”

Jude went quiet. Derek didn’t know he’d left a perfectly good offer for sex to hang out and watch TV with him; he’d never hear the end of it, and he wouldn’t even know how to explain why.

“Come on, man. Everyone’s seen the way you’ve been eyeing each other up.”

“I’m not—Noah and I, we just...” Jude waved a hand at the TV as if the people on screen would be ready with an answer. “I’m just not ready to be involved with anyone.”

“Who says you need to be involved? Sometimes you just want a good time.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make the hurt go away. And you have the potential to be hurt by someone new if they end up wanting more.” Jude looked at him. “Have you been having a lot of ‘good times’?”

Derek was silent for a bit, staring at the TV but not really paying attention. “A few times,” he admitted, “You’re right, it doesn’t make the hurt go away. But it’s not bad either. Nothing wrong with wanting to feel close to somebody for a bit.”

Jude understood the sentiment too well. After years of repressing himself, he’d learned to hide his desperate want for affection, but it always remained bubbling beneath the surface. He craved being close to someone, and bedding Noah had given him a taste of what he longed for, indulging in the physical touch of one who wanted to feel every inch of his skin. But the fear was still there, the terror of showing his scars to someone who could split them open again. He didn’t think he could survive it a second time.

“That why you still keep Zero’s things in the middle of your house?” Derek asked.

Jude’s brain didn’t catch up to his question, and he simply stared open-mouthed. Derek got off the couch and sauntered over to one of the dusty cardboard boxes he’d learned to naturally swerve around for months. The nearest one was plopped in the archway separating the living room from the kitchen, a few sleeves draped over its flaps.

“What are you doing?” he asked as Derek pulled out a red jersey from the top of the pile. He stretched it out so that the black number ‘0’ was visible. Jude hadn’t looked through any of the contents since he’d shoved them in there. Just the sight of the jersey had him spiralling down memories, chest aching like an old war wound.

“You’re holding on to nothing,” Derek said bluntly.

Jude gripped the back of the couch, feeling the rough scratch of the fabric against his fingers. “Put that back,” he pleaded.

“It’s in the way. Like physically, you’re making it harder to move around your house.”

“I’m not ready to let go of all of it,” he shamefully burst out, “I know it’s stupid. I know it’s not helping me move on, but I just can’t.”

Derek slowly lowered the jersey back into the box. He kept his hand tucked in there, rifling through the rest of Zero’s things but mercifully not pulling them out for Jude to see.

“When my house burned down, I thought about all the things I lost. My trophies and photos from my childhood. And this one shirt—it was Ahsha’s.” He paused, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed past the memory. “She forgot it when she left and I found it in my suitcase after I came back to L.A. It still smelled like her. And I thought, ‘I should get rid of it’. But I couldn’t. I slept with the damn thing my first night back at the house.”

Jude turned away, wishing he could tune him out. He didn’t want to hear this lesson, didn’t want to be told how childish he was. It would be like cutting the final, frayed thread that kept him tied to Zero, and tossing him into the turbulent seas with no lifeline.

“After the fire, I felt guilty about letting that shirt burn. Like I did it on purpose to hurt her. But something inside me also felt free after it was gone. Like I was less tied down to the past. I still got my memories. They’ll stay with me way longer than that shirt would’ve.”

“I hope you’re not saying I should burn my house down too,” Jude muttered.

“I’m saying that you’re not doing yourself any favours holding on to his stuff. You don’t need to keep his old cologne bottles when all they do right now is remind you of how bad you’re hurting.”

He was right. Jude knew he was right, but fear kept those boxes in place, breaking up the space in his home and gathering dust.

“At least move them to the garage so you can move around your house again. See what it feels like to own it all for yourself.”

He hesitated still, biting on the tip of his thumb. Derek glared at him.

“Jude,” he commanded with the same authority he wielded on the court, causing Jude to jump off the couch in unthinking obedience. 

“They’re really heavy,” he said in a small voice, a last defence against the idea. But he approached Derek anyway.

“We’ll carry ‘em together. C’mon.”

He bent down and slid his hands around the box. Jude followed suit, crossing his arms over Derek’s and squeezing until they touched. With a quick count to three, they hauled the box up.

They fell into a slow sideways march to the garage door. Jude kept his neck craned to the side so he could see where they were going, but was aware of Derek’s eyes on him. He glanced back and realized how close they were, even with the box between them. He could feel the strain of their arms pulsing against each other, the heat from Derek’s skin.

He was reminded of the poker game again, of what if felt like to have Derek’s attention laser focused on him like he was a ball on the court. But there was no heated challenge in his eyes this time. Something similarly intense but undefined was there instead, swirling like a heady fog and clouding their senses.

It was a relief when they finally made it to the garage and gently placed the box down in an empty corner. They went back and did the same with the others, glancing at each other occasionally, until those glances changed into longer and longer looks. With each trip, their focus turned more to the space between them. By the last box, they had memorized the route to the garage and stared at each other over their cargo, lips parted from exertion, eyes shining. Jude’s thumbs pressed down over the tops of Derek’s hands, occasionally slipping over them from the sweat that formed there. 

Silent understanding circulated between their mingled breaths, melting away any remaining anger. The scandal no longer mattered, not when they were so close that the rest of the world grew distant. There was a new softness in Derek’s face, an unknown shine in his dark eyes, gazing like he had never seen Jude before. They carried the ghost of Zero between their bodies, moving the past aside so they could get lost in the new feelings of the present, a tentative step in a new direction. It was like they were discovering each other for the first time.

They placed the last box on the ground and shuffled back into the main house, rolling their shoulders. The space looked bigger now, emptier. Jude looked around, waiting for his heart to explode. For an earthquake to rip across the ground. But nothing happened. Instead he felt a new lightness, like a heavy stone had been extracted from the pit of his stomach. The reminders weren’t completely gone, just tucked away somewhere for him to dig out when he was ready. But here, in his inner home, he could learn to live without the spectre of Zero’s presence.

Derek leaned against the couch, stretching his arms behind him. “You good?” he asked.

Jude turned on his heel, getting a visual three-sixty of the place. “Yeah. You were right. I was just keeping the pain fresh by having his stuff around me. It’s weird, isn’t it? Wanting to keep the things your loved ones leave behind even though it hurts to look at them?”

Derek shrugged. “I get it. But I also just didn’t want to hit my toe on the way to the bathroom again because your damn box was in the way.”

“Thanks,” Jude said sincerely, “I’m surprised you’d want to help me out, to be honest.”

He watched Derek’s shoulders raise a fraction, the nervous digging of his toes into the carpet. “You wouldn’t leave me alone even after all the shit that’s gone down. If you’re letting me crash at your place, figure I gotta do my part to help the boss out, right?”

“You don’t have to help me with my personal issues just because I’m your boss, Derek.”

“I know.” He looked at Jude, taut and serious. Unblinking. “I wanted to.”

And Jude would never admit how touched he was by that. Derek turned back to the TV but his words had done their effect. A spark flared up in his chest, glowing through the cracks that still remained. It was a dangerous feeling, one he’d hoped to avoid. As he watched Derek peacefully settle into another sitcom episode, Jude knew he would have to hide this moment like the boxes in his garage and figure out what to do with it later.

—

Derek’s stay was only a few days longer. He hung out with the other players most nights, but was always up bye morning to greet Jude in the kitchen. During the day he was at his new place, ensuring the furniture was all set up and getting the last of the paperwork sorted. Once everything was ready, Jude offered to drive him there, both out of kindness and curiosity. He parked them in front of a sprawling mansion with a larger lawn than Derek’s previous house had. The interior boasted massive vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, filled with leather and velour furniture and abstract wall art. The in-ground pool in the backyard connected to a hot tub, overlooking the many low hills that surrounded the neighbourhood. It wasn’t really to Jude’s tastes, but Derek was happy with the results, so he left him to it.

With his star player settled into his new home, it was time to bring him back to the arena. Derek’s suspension was over, allowing him to return and train with the team before their next game. Even without their captain, the Devils had been dominating under German’s coaching. If they kept up their current streak, Jude was optimistic about their chances to get to the finals. Now that enough time had passed, Derek’s on-court fight was no longer top news in the gossip mags as other celebrity scandals surfaced. Things were beginning to look up for them.

Still, there was no harm in generating some good press, so he was pleased to see Derek arrive with some other players on the night of the charity vogue battle. The place was packed with the rich and famous, pulled from all entertainment and sports industries. The camera crew was setting up around the giant ring that took up the centre of the concrete room.

Jude was only staying until the winner was announced; he still had a mountain of paperwork to go through in his office, but he had a duty to attend all Devils-related events. The overhead spotlights were already swinging above them in dizzying circles and the speakers blasted noise across the room, pre-emptively hyping up the audience before the main event. It was hard not to get swept up in the atmosphere; Jude tapped his foot to the beat in a small gesture of letting loose. 

The Devil Girls were all decked out and stretching inside the ring, covered from head to toe in sequins and wigs and makeup. Kyle slipped through the ropes and waved at him, kicking up her left heel with a click.

“Can I just say thank you for getting the boys to come?” she said to him, clapping her hands in glee, “With their backing, we are going to fill up an entire bank vault!”

“The money’s going to charity,” Jude reminded her.

“I know, I know. But I just want to see those dollar signs rise and pretend for a little bit.” She turned her head and smiled. “And the big shark is grabbing seats front and centre. Perfect.”

Jude followed her gaze to see Derek and the other players shuffling into the audience stands. They squeezed their way past some of Lionel’s actor friends and took up the entire middle row where they would get an unblocked view of the show.

“This’ll be a good message to send live before he gets back on the court,” he said.

“Since I know you’ll ask, he’s only had one housewarming party with just the players and the girls and no one else, and nothing caught on fire,” Kyle told him, “Mostly because he said we weren’t allowed to use the fireplace. Although we did break one of the windows on the second floor but I told the girls not to do flips off the couch. Sometimes it’s like rounding up a group of kindergarteners, I swear.”

She followed Jude’s eye line to where Derek was laughing at something one of his teammates said. “He has been looking happier lately. Must be from getting his tail wet again.”

Jude remembered Derek’s confession of indulging in some ‘good times’. 

“Should I be worried about another potential scandal?” he asked, hoping to weasel more information out of Kyle.

She twisted one of her large wig’s pigtails and hissed through her teeth. “Listen, I know I’m supposed to be your spy, but I don’t think I should be telling you everything. If Derek wants to have a little fun on the side, I say let him.”

“Is he seeing one of the Devil Girls?” Jude pressed.

“Oh, that’s the bell! I better get up in the ring.” Kyle scurried away from him, running far too agilely in her six-inch heels. Jude suspected that she made her escape to avoid answering him.

“I see you also have an appreciation for Kyle’s interpretation of Sailor Moon,” someone said in his ear.

He turned to see Noah and his ever-present smile. He was close enough that Jude could smell his cologne, its light scent dredging up memories of their few nights together. He swayed like he was tipsy, nearly stumbling backwards.

“Huh?” he uttered like the smooth-talker he was.

“I’m pretty sure that’s who she’s supposed to be,” Noah continued. He waved at Kyle, who was adjusting her navy scarf over her cleavage. “No tiara but the sequined heart on the forehead is a nice alternative. The red bow reads more Sailor Venus than Sailor Moon, though.”

“I have no idea what you’re even referring to.”

“Fun fact you don’t know about me Jude, I love watching ‘90s anime in my spare time.” He leaned forward, brushing their shoulders together. “I’ll be interviewing the winner at the end of the dance, but after that, I’m going straight back to working on the video piece about you.”

“Great. Yes.” Jude kept looking back at Derek, only lending half an ear to what Noah was saying. Derek returned the stare, stone faced. His expression grew stormy and Jude felt his stomach drop. It was Noah’s hand on his arm that brought him back.

“Jude?” he ventured, all cockiness gone. He spoke with genuine concern and God, Jude didn’t deserve his compassion. He’d been keeping his distance like a skittish colt.

“Sorry,” he said, doing his best to smile, “I’m just kind of all over the place. Yeah, that sounds... that sounds great. I’ll be sure to look over your footage.”

Noah looked at him sadly. “You know, I do want you to open up to me. Not for any interviews or gossip. I actually like you, Jude. And I just want to see who you truly are outside of the Devils. But you’re not going to show that to me, are you?”

Jude opened his mouth to refute him, but there was nothing to refute. It was the truth laid bare.

“Are you really that afraid of getting hurt again? Do you think I’ll be another Zero?”

“Of course not,” he immediately butted in before they could go down that painful path.

“Or maybe there’s someone else,” Noah guessed.

Jude resisted the urge to look at the bleachers behind him. “There isn’t.” The half-truth tasted bitter on his tongue, but it wasn’t a lie either. Derek wasn’t really a someone else. Not in that way.

Jude had wrapped himself into a shell after his heartbreak, fumbling to put the pieces back together in the dark. Only recently had he wanted to pull someone in with him, someone who had their own pieces to fix. He wished so desperately that Noah could’ve been that for him. It would be easier then to fall into bed with him again, to whisper things to him in the dark that he didn’t want anyone else to hear. Speak them into the skin of someone who would do more than listen, who would soothe him with touches and wipe the fear away with a press of his fingers.

That person wasn’t Noah. It should have been. Jude hated himself for being unable to change it.

Even though he’d said not a word, Noah understood. His face shifted into a wistful half-smile, already nostalgic for what they’d barely had together.

“I can’t keep chasing after you, Jude. I’m relentless in many things, but even I can see you’re not ready for... whatever it is we could have. But maybe someday. I’d like to earn your trust, if you’ll ever let me.”

He slipped away with a final caress of his cheek, leaving Jude gnawed with guilt. He should’ve said more, should’ve found the right apology to make things right. Instead, his treacherous body turned around again to zero in on the one person who’d complicated things for him.

Derek was still looking at him, mouth turned down in an unhappy frown. Jude didn’t know why.

He barely paid attention to the vogue battle or the donation counter. His mind kept wandering, eyes fixed deliberately anywhere but on the bleachers. It suddenly felt too loud in here, too crowded and bright and busy. He longed for the quiet of his office where he could start sorting his emotional mess by himself.

When the bell rang and Jamie was declared the winner, Jude nearly sank to the floor in relief. He made a beeline for the restrooms, desperate to get some time alone to gather his bearings. Before he could reach the door, Derek appeared from the crowd as if by magic. Jude’s heart sank; he’d hoped to avoid meeting for the night.

“Hi,” he said out of politeness, “Had a good time?”

“Did you?” Derek asked. He still looked unhappy. Jude was too tired to figure out why and was beginning to think he shouldn’t have bothered with him for so long if things were just going to go south between them every week.

“Yeah, it was great. It was great.” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Listen, I’ve still got a mountain of paperwork I have to get through at the office. Was there anything you needed, or...?”

Derek chewed on the inside of his cheek, his scowl deepening. “No,” he finally said, an obvious lie. He walked away, disappearing into the shifting crowd. Clearly Jude had been wrong: they were never going to understand each other.

With his path now free, he hid in the restroom to splash water on his face and stare into the mirror. He didn’t know how long he stood there, gripping the edges of the sink as people walked in and out, side-eyeing him as they passed. By the time he surfaced from the underground lair into the cool night, half the cars in the parking lot had already left. 

There was a large bus stationed next to one of the streetlights, conspicuous among the smaller vehicles around it. Jude’s car was farther behind it and he paid it no mind on the assumption that it would be taking the Devil Girls away to celebrate somewhere. But as he approached, he saw a familiar silhouette peeking out the bus’s door. Derek was leaning out, one of his arms resting along the doorframe. Next to him was London, freshly scrubbed of her Joker makeup and stepping into view of the lamplight.

Jude froze, hidden in the dark, feeling like an intruder. He heard her murmur something too low for him to hear, followed by light laughter. Then Derek’s arm slid from the doorframe and curled around her waist, pulling her in without resistance. They leaned into each other until their lips met and their silhouettes melded into one, and Jude felt the cold sting of the night air slap him.

Derek wrapped his arms around London, unwilling to separate more than he had to, pulling at her clothes cupping her cheeks in desperate hunger. She returned his touches with equal fever, wrapping one of her legs around his. They disappeared into the bus, sliding the door shut behind them, and Jude was able to breathe again. 

He scurried past it, trying very hard not to listen to any noises coming from inside, and didn’t stop until he was locked in his car where he could grip the steering wheel for support.

He’d become too invested in Derek. He’d pushed and pushed until his feelings had become misdirected and that was why he was thrown off by what he’d seen. Superstar athletes playing the field were a dime a dozen, and Derek’s ladykiller reputation prior to his marriage had been legendary. No one would bat an eyelid to see him hooking up with another Devil Girl. This was who he was, now that he was untethered from his love for Ahsha. 

What Jude hadn’t expected was the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the sight. It was the same unpleasantness he’d felt when Zero and Jelena had briefly dated, just before they got together. He refused to put a name to the feeling, lest he give it more power over him.

He was doing this to himself, Jude brooded. He was throwing his feelings onto someone who would always be unavailable rather than risk being hurt by someone like Noah, who actually wanted him. That was as good a rationale as he could think of. He’d been so focused on regaining Derek’s trust that somewhere along the way, his emotional wires had gotten crossed. 

The bus began to rock, its movement caught in Jude’s rearview mirror. He couldn’t help but watch it sway, couldn’t help but imagine how Derek looked inside with his shirt off, revealing the sharp planes of his skin he’d shown off in Jude’s living room. How he would cover London’s body with his ardour, cling to her with his heated arms Jude had felt when they’d moved the boxes together. He had to cut the cord and return to a more distant working relationship. It was what Derek had wanted from the onset, and Jude should have listened to him.

 _Just cut the cord_ , he repeated in his head like a mantra during the entire drive. By the time he made it to his office, Jude had managed to tamp down on his panic. The paperwork sitting on his desk was a welcome distraction.

The fragile peace didn’t last when Commissioner Matthews stormed through his open door in a fury, and threw him an ultimatum he never saw coming.


End file.
